The
Billionaire Jaguar’s
Curvy Journalist
By Zoe Chant
Copyright Zoe Chant 2016
All Rights Reserved
1
Abby would never get used to
parties like this. Back when she was a
kid, she'd see her dad putting on a tux
once a year, when the local chamber of
commerce had its Fall Gala. But this?
This was a room full of men who put on
tuxes every day, and glittering women in
gowns that cost more than what her
father used to make in a year.
It didn’t help that she never felt
glamorous at these things, either. She had
a pair of sturdy black dresses she used
for formal events that she dressed up
with some bright, colorful necklaces, but
that was all they were: sturdy. They
were work clothes, not the fancy toys the
people with the real money wore.
Everyone who looked at her knew the
dresses were off the rack and the
jewelry was glass. She was always an
imposter at things like this.
She felt shallow wishing for
something, just one nice necklace that
would make her look—and more
importantly, feel—like she belonged.
But it wasn’t worth buying it on a
reporter’s salary. Forget feeling like a
princess; Abby needed to eat.
Speaking of eating, she wouldn’t if
she didn’t get to work. Salem Beach
Now wouldn’t pay for five hundred
words about pretty outfits and feeling out
of place: they wanted photos, details.
What was said, what was overheard,
what everybody wore.
What she really needed was a
break. A story like the one that had made
Dad’s career such a success, when he’d
gotten to the bottom of a fraud case that
had cost Salem Beach millions. The
closest Abby had gotten was an
interview with the sculptor who’d
designed the new Veterans Memorial on
the park.
She probably should’ve taken a job
somewhere closer to the city, or even in
New York. At least then she’d feel out of
place because she was in unfamiliar
surroundings.
But instead she was a townie in
Salem Beach, where the millionaires
and billionaires of Boston came to play.
You smiled nice to the rich people and
hoped they tipped well, and knew you
would never, ever be one of them, no
matter what you did.
The gala she was attending tonight
was a fundraiser for the Salem Beach
Children’s Society, which supported
early childhood programs for all the
families at the other end of the social
spectrum. Eventually there’d be a nice
speech about giving back to the
community and the children being our
future, and everyone would feel good
about themselves at the end of the night.
Abby knew she shouldn’t feel so
cynical about it, but sometimes it was
hard not to. Half the people talking so
passionately about ‘helping the youth of
this community’ would yell at the
teenage cashier at the gas station if their
change was a penny short.
She snapped a few pictures.
Eleanor Chu, the Children’s Society
Executive Director, was chatting up a
tall, slender woman in a black column of
a dress. Two gray-haired men were
watching from near the ice sculpture (the
organization’s
logo,
two
children
holding hands, carefully rendered in
three dimensions). She’d have to get
their names from Eleanor later.
She stepped back for a second
photo and someone jostled her arm.
“Oh,” she said, turning, “I’m sorry—”
“It’s quite all right,” the man said,
and Abby looked into a pair of the most
intense green eyes she had ever seen. “I
didn’t realize you were about to move,
you seemed so—focused.”
“I—” She was sure focused now.
The man was tall—at least six feet,
maybe a little taller—broad-shouldered,
with sharp, prominent cheekbones and
ebony-dark hair. His skin was smooth, a
pale tan. “I got so focused on the shot. I
should’ve been paying more attention.”
“You’re all right?” His hand was
almost at her elbow. She felt like she
could sense his touch, just out of her
reach.
Damn. “I’m fine. I’m sorry—”
“No need to apologize at all,” he
said, extending his hand. “Paul Larson.”
Paul Larson? No one told me he
was hot. “Abigail Bailey; Abby. I work
for Salem Beach Now…mostly the
social and business beats. Around here
there’s a lot of overlap.”
Paul smiled. “I suppose that’s true.
It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Oh. Right. He still had his hand
out. She took it, and his firm handshake
sent shivers up and down her spine.
Now that was the kind of hand you
wanted to get to know better. All over.
Paul Larson, in the flesh. Abby
could hardly believe it. He’d come
seemingly out of nowhere two years ago
to make his name in biotechnology
investing. They said he had the Midas
touch—anything he invested in turned to
gold, and usually sooner rather than
later. She hadn’t expected him to be so
humble. Or handsome. Or young—he
had to be right around her age, twenty-
four. “Nice to meet you too,” she
stammered. One advantage of her
journalism background: You could strike
up a conversation with almost anyone,
no matter how distracted you felt. “I
heard you’d bought property in Salem
Beach, are you planning on spending
time here?”
“I wanted a retreat,” he said. “But I
confess, I’m enjoying the area a good
deal. I think I’m going to end up
spending more time here than I’d
planned.” He looked straight into her
eyes as he said it. Shit. She hadn’t
planned on anything like this. “So…are
you pursuing any hot news tonight?”
“Not really,” she said. “Tonight’s
work is probably going to end up on the
Style page.”
“I suppose the checks cash either
way,” he said with a hint of a smile.
“And there’s less potential for angry
letters.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” she said.
“You’d better not get a designer’s name
wrong. And I’d probably have to turn in
my press pass if I suggested anyone was
wearing a knock-off.” Except me, she
added mentally. They like it when I
know my place.
“Should I tell you what I’m
wearing?” He reached back, fiddling
with his collar. “You’ll have to read the
tag on the shirt for me, and I’m afraid the
suit’s bespoke. I’m sworn to secrecy and
can’t possibly reveal the name of my
tailor. Gentleman’s honor, you know.”
Paul Larson may have come from
nowhere, but he sounded like he came
from money. “Of course,” she said. “The
tie?”
He flipped it over nonchalantly.
“Ralph Lauren. A little off-the-rack for
me, eh?” He shrugged. “New money, I’ll
be forgiven. What are you wearing?”
“Me?” Her mind reeled for a
second. “A…it’s just a dress. I think I
got it at Kohl’s.”
“No, no,” he said, putting an arm
around her shoulders and pulling her in,
as if he was confessing a deep, dark
secret. “That’s not how you play the
game, my dear. ‘It’s just a little
something I had in the closet,’ that
works. Or ‘I went to this delightful little
store, in the suburbs, would you believe
it?’”
Abby’s heart was racing. What was
he doing? This was almost as bad as
getting caught with the maid would have
been back in the day. Abby was here to
take notes, not be flirted with. Men like
Paul Larson didn’t flirt with reporters,
especially not reporters in off-the-rack
dresses. It just Was Not Done. “I…I
don’t think I can pull that off. Besides,
I’m here to do the seeing, not…be seen.”
And she was certainly being seen now.
People were glancing at them and she’d
already caught one raised eyebrow. She
knew what that meant. What is she
thinking?
Mostly she was thinking about how
solid and strong Paul’s arm felt around
her, but that was a very, very bad idea.
“I do appreciate the advice, though,” she
said, stepping away from him.
“Glad to help,” he said. “And…
hold your head high. You’ve got just as
much right to be here as any of us. After
all, without you to write it down, why
would any of us even suffer through
parties like this?”
With those words, he disappeared
back into the crowd, and Abby felt as
disappointed as she was relieved. The
rumors she’d heard about Paul were that
he was savvy, hard-driving, private—
not at all the kind of man who would
pull someone into his arms at a party and
whisper advice for mingling in high
society. Not at all the kind of man who
would pay attention to a woman like her
at all.
She pulled herself back together,
ignoring the stickiness that had suddenly
engulfed her pantyhose, and got back to
taking pictures. Lynn Lyon, the heiress to
the Lyon diamond fortune, was holding
court near the podium. She was the
evening’s speaker and chair of the
Children’s Society board. She was
wearing a gold-and-white dress that
looked like it had been sewn to the
perfect curves of her body.
Abby wasn’t jealous, exactly. But
she wished that once, just once, she
could afford to look that good at one of
those parties. She lifted her phone and
took a few pictures of Lynn and her
coterie.
Jennifer Ng from the Globe came
by and tapped her shoulder. “Abigail
Bailey,” she said. “Now how did you do
that?”
“Do what?”
“I’ve been trying to get two words
out of Paul Larson for weeks and he just
comes by and chats you up.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well, I ran into
him. Literally.”
“I should be so lucky,” Jennifer
muttered. “Everyone wants to know his
story, and I do mean everyone. You get
the scoop on him, and you’ll buy your
own ticket.”
“I have a job,” she said.
“At a local rag where on a good
day you’re covering two beats,” she
said. “I know you like Salem Beach, but
there’s no future here. You’re going to be
making just enough to pay your rent for
the rest of your life and we both know
it.”
Just because she was right didn’t
mean Abby had to like it. “I didn’t get
into this for the money.”
“None of us did,” Jennifer said.
“But we all have to eat. And it looked
like he liked you.”
“He couldn’t—”
Jennifer shook her head. “Look, I’m
not telling you what to do, but I think
you’re being an idiot if you don’t at least
ask for an interview.” She smiled a
wicked little smile. “Besides, aren’t you
a little bit curious yourself?”
She was…a little.
“Ask for an interview,” Jennifer
said. “Worst thing he can do is say no,
right?”
“I guess so,” she said. “But don’t
you think he’d be more likely to give an
interview to someone like you?”
Jennifer sighed. “I can’t get two
words out of him,” she said. “He put his
arm around you. If you can’t get that
interview, nobody can. And everybody
wants to know more about him. All that
money…that doesn’t come out of
nowhere. He’s got some kind of history,
and we all want to know what it is. I
mean…he’s a billionaire! And none of
us know anything about him. It’s crazy.”
“I get it, I get it,” Abby said.
“If you don’t at least try,” Jennifer
said, “I am never going to forgive you.
Never.”
“Fine,” she said. “But not tonight.
I’ll follow up tomorrow morning, all
right?” By then, he’ll have forgotten all
about me. He’s probably forgotten
about me already.
“I’m holding you to that,” Jennifer
said, and moved on to her next target.
She would, too.
Oh well. There were worse things
than calling an office and asking for an
interview. They’d say no, she’d get back
to work. Easy.
2
Paul paced the floor of his office,
the cat inside swishing his tail in
irritation. What had he been thinking?
He’d had the woman—not just any
woman, his mate—so close, and he’d
just let her go. What a fool. His mother
had always said men were lucky—they
knew, had the mate sense strong and
irresistible. Women? We have to guess.
But you? When it happens—she had
gestured with her fingers—it’ll hit you
like a thunderbolt.
It sure as hell had.
And he’d let her just walk away.
Don’t be stupid, he said to himself,
to the cat. She had a job to do. It’s not
like Mom said it once was, when every
woman in the city knew who the great
cat was and wished to be his mate. He
couldn’t exactly carry Abby Bailey off
on the strength of being rich. And he
couldn’t hide the cat. That…he already
knew how badly that could end. No
children of his would suffer through that.
What if he felt this way and she’d
—
No, he wouldn’t think about that. It
was far too soon to worry. First, he
needed her near. He needed her to trust
him. Then, he could start telling her the
truth. Not like what had happened with
his parents—no, he’d go a little at a
time. Ease her into things. Then she
could get out early, if she wanted to.
Before either of them was hurt too badly.
Before….
He thought of Aaron. Did Aaron
even remember his mother and older
brother? So many times, he’d thought of
reaching out. But for years, Father
probably wouldn’t have let him, even if
he had.
Father. He tried not to think about
him, but the memories would still come,
unbidden. He taught me everything I
know about business. And…I guess he
taught me what not to do to the people I
loved. When he fell in love, it would be
without conditions. Without ‘ifs’ or
‘buts.’ He wouldn’t be his father. Never.
Abigail
Bailey
would
know,
without a doubt, that she was loved.
But how to get her to his door?
She was a reporter, and there had
never been a shortage of reporters
wanting to know more about the
mysterious Paul Larson. Offering her an
exclusive would do the job.
But would it be anything more than
an assignment to her? He didn’t want to
look like he was trying to bribe her or to
buy her affection. If she was the woman
he thought she was—and instinct was
burning bright within him—that wouldn’t
be the way to her heart.
And offering her a story wasn’t
without its own risks. He’d done some
digging around, and Abby Bailey
appeared to be a very smart and capable
reporter. He wanted her to learn more
about him, but on his own terms.
The buzzer went off at his desk.
“Paul?” It was Chris, his personal
assistant, secretary, and the only real
friend Paul had. “That meeting with the
board’s in an hour. You need anything?
You’ve been radio silent all morning.”
Shit. He’d been so hung up on
Abby he hadn’t been paying any attention
to his work at all. “Um…what do you
have ready?”
Chris sighed. “I’ll come in. Good
thing you got me to save your ass.”
Good thing, Paul agreed.
Chris came in with a fat portfolio
of documents. “You remember what this
meeting is about? Please tell me you
remember what this meeting’s about.”
“I remember,” he said. “It’s about
next quarter’s sales projections…you
have those ready for me, right?”
Chris winked at him. “Of course I
do. But you have to tell me what
happened last night. You’ve been out of
it all morning.” He spread a few charts
out on Paul’s desk. “I don’t mind
covering for you, but I’d like to know
why.”
Paul knew he’d have to tell Chris
sooner or later. He braced himself.
“There was a woman at the party last
night.”
Chris lit up. “Oooh,” he said, his
dark eyes glistening. “Has our great cat
found his mate?”
“Just don’t,” Paul said. “I’m trying
to
get
ready
for
this
meeting,
remember?”
“She must be beautiful.”
She is. “So we’re expecting sales
to go down?”
“It’s just seasonal variation,” Chris
said. “You could do this in your sleep.
Tell me what she looks like.”
“She’s beautiful,” he said. “Can we
do this later?”
“Probably. When are you going to
see her again?”
“Is the board going to believe that
this is seasonal variation?” It looked
like seasonal variation. They’d…had
they talked about this? Shit, he needed to
pull it together.
“It’s actually slightly better than
last year’s dip,” Chris said, tapping the
next chart. “Which is very promising for
the year. I sent you the PowerPoint, if
you want to actually read it.”
“I should do that,” he said. “When
did you send it?”
“Yesterday, after you’d left. I’ll
send it again if you tell me her name.”
He’d find it out anyway. “Abby.”
“No last name?”
“Bailey. I don’t have a date with
her. Yet.”
“I can fix that.”
Chris probably could. “I don’t want
to manipulate her. She…she needs to
come to me.”
“Yeah, like you’re going to have
problems with that.”
“I don’t mean—”
“Just ask her out.”
“I can’t just ask her out,” he said.
Chris leaned over the desk, his long
ponytail swinging down over his
shoulder. “Why not?”
Paul took a step back from his
desk…which put his back against the
glass windows on the 14th floor.
“Because…because she’s a business
reporter.”
Chris gestured for him to go on.
“And….”
“And I don’t want to bribe her. A
date with me, that would be a hell of a
scoop.”
“Listen, Mr. Man of Mystery,”
Chris said. “You’re rich. You’re
mysterious. You’re not going to be able
to escape that with anyone. Why not ask
out someone you actually like?”
“Because I’ll have to lie to her,” he
said. Wasn’t that obvious? “I can’t build
a relationship on lies.”
“And you don’t want to build a
relationship on the truth, either?” Chris
shook his head. “Look, Paul. If you want
a mate—if you want your mother’s line
to continue—you have to do something.
Lie to a woman, tell the truth, tell her
some of the truth. But you can’t just wait
to act for the rest of your life, or your
life will be over.”
“You don’t have to be so dramatic
about it,” Paul objected.
“It’s not dramatic.” Chris tapped
Paul’s desk for emphasis. “It’s the truth.
The truth is, you’ve made yourself a
fortune, and you want someone to share
it with. You deserve someone to share it
with. The least you should do is ask her
out.”
Okay…he wasn’t wrong. Being at
least a little honest with her from the
start wouldn’t hurt. “So what’s your
suggestion, since you seem to have all
the answers?”
“I call her up and offer her
exclusive access. To the business, not
you. Interview comes with the package,
but that’s only part of it. She gets the
quarterly projections, the vision for the
future—the whole nine yards. You can
tell her the truth—as much of it as you
want to—at the interview, but however
it goes, the article’s hers.”
Well, that—
That was actually a very good idea.
“Fine,” he said.
Chris smirked and tapped the pages
on Paul’s desk. “Now focus on this
meeting and leave the magic to me.”
Paul gave him the finger.
3
Abby was supposed to be working
on a story about the Salem Beach
Children’s Society Gala. Her deadline
was 2 pm, it was already 11, and all she
had was a paragraph that used the word
‘glittering’ twice.
Maybe Jennifer was right and she
was starting to outgrow Salem Beach
and the endless cycle of charity events
and trivial meetings.
Or maybe it was just Paul Larson
that was the problem. She kept thinking
about him, about his dark eyes and hair,
about the graceful way he moved. He
was long and lean, exactly the kind of
guy who spent an hour running every day
and had no patience for anyone who
didn’t.
Not her type at all. Certainly not
someone who would be interested in her.
Even though she could still feel
exactly where his arm had been on her
shoulder. Even though she could still
smell his cologne—unfamiliar, no doubt
expensive.
Not. Her. Type.
She took another hour punching her
notes into something resembling an
article. It wouldn’t be her best work, but
no one expected her to be doing her best
work on a story about the Children’s
Society Gala anyway. Her photos would
make or break it—and the photos had
come out quite well, especially one
she’d shot of handsome Paul Larson
chatting with Eleanor. She’d have to get
Eleanor a copy—prominent donors were
as good as gold in her business. She
went ahead and sent the first draft to her
editor.
Then it was some more work on a
feature
article
about
high-tech
companies moving to Salem Beach for
‘lifestyle benefits.’ She really needed
another corporation to talk to, but
Hughes
Group
had
declined
an
interview, and chasing someone off-the-
record had pitfalls of its own.
The phone at her desk rang. It
didn’t very often these days—most of the
reporters used email and most of her
contacts had her cell—but that meant she
usually picked it up just out of novelty.
“This is Abby.”
“Miss Bailey.” The voice on the
other end of the line was male, cheerful,
and unfamiliar. “Chris Hernandez here,
personal assistant to Paul Larson of Inti
International. Do you have a second?”
“I…I’m on deadline, but I can talk
for a minute.” It wasn’t exactly a lie and
would make sure he got to the point.
“Wonderful. I’m sure you know our
little company’s been getting quite a bit
of attention, and I’ve finally managed to
convince Paul he should let a reporter in
to do a profile.”
“Oh.” Wait, you can’t mean me.
“Now, he doesn’t have much
patience with the big papers, and he
doesn’t want Fortune or any of that crap
in here. He mentioned meeting you last
night, and I thought, ‘Finally, here’s my
chance.’ Do you think Salem Beach Now
will be interested?”
“Of course,” she said. It could get
their little operation national attention.
Bill would jump at it. “And…you want
me?”
“Mr. Larson doesn’t have a lot of
patience for most reporters,” he said. “A
good first impression goes for a lot. It’s
a miracle he wants to talk with you,
honestly.”
“I suppose I’m flattered.”
“Now I know you’re on deadline,
but maybe we could schedule a tour later
in the week?” This guy was smooth, that
was for sure.
“Let me open up my calendar,” she
said. “And I’ll need a number I can call
you at—an email—”
“Give me your email and I’ll send
you a comfirmation, my email’s got
contact information. How does Thursday
look?”
“Um, I have a breakfast meeting to
cover, but I’m pretty flexible after that.”
“Let’s do…will two o’clock work
for you? I can give you the VIP tour
then.”
“There’s a VIP tour?”
He chuckled. “There is now.”
“We haven’t even met.”
“Paul’s a good judge of character,”
he said. “I’m looking forward to it.
What’s your email?”
After she got the confirmation, she
ran to LinkedIn. It all seemed to check
out. Chris Hernandez was listed as Paul
Larson’s assistant, and he had a host of
connections only a few steps away from
hers, most of them people like Eleanor
Chu.
Now she had to go to Laura and
explain to her that she’d just gotten
exclusive access to Inti International…
but just for her, for reasons she couldn’t
even begin to explain.
“But why you?” Laura asked. “I
mean, you’re a good reporter, but—”
She shrugged. Laura could cut someone
down without saying a word. She clearly
thought she was headed for greener
pastures than tiny Salem Beach, and
Abby hoped she got there as soon as
possible.
“That’s what his assistant said,”
she said, trying to stay nonchalant and
shrug off in the insult—experience had
taught her that taking the bait only made
things worse. “Maybe he’s had bad luck
with reporters, I don’t know.”
“And he spoke with you at the
gala,” Laura sniffed.
“Just briefly. I was surprised I’d
made an impression. But…exclusive
access, that’s going to be great. Bill will
lose his mind.”
“Look,” Laura said. “This is a big
story. I’ll come along, and we can tackle
it together, all right?”
A surge of anger powered through
Abby. “It’s not that big a story. I’ve
certainly handled a lot more complicated
things than a company profile.”
“There’s going to be a lot of
attention on this,” Laura said. “Co-
writing the story’s going to make it a lot
stronger.”
Abby wanted to strangle her, and
Bill too, for promoting Laura to
managing editor in the first place.
“You’ve got other fish to fry,” Bill had
said—she’d been engaged back then,
and he must have thought she’d throw
away her career. And then the
engagement went to hell, and she was
still stuck with Laura, who was still
waiting for her big break two years later.
“They asked specifically for me.”
“Of course,” Laura said. “And
you’ll be there with me. I’ll go tell Bill.”
She was gone before Abby could
even open her mouth to object again. Not
that it would have made any difference.
Laura’s primary object in life was
apparently to cut Abby off at the knees.
And it’s not even that big a story,
she sulked. Sure, we’ll get some
attention but it’s not like we’re
breaking some great scandal open.
People are just curious, that’s all.
Laura would have to do more work than
that—and better work than that—if she
really wanted to break into New York or
Boston.
Well, there was nothing she could
do about it now but act professional.
Of course, giving Chris Hernandez
a heads-up that her managing editor
wanted to tag along at her exclusive
interview was the professional thing to
do, too, wasn’t it?
She smiled a little to herself as she
composed the email. After all, Laura
wasn’t the only one who knew how to be
‘helpful.’
Thanks again for this opportunity.
My managing editor Laura Moore
would
like
to
come
along—Inti
International’s turning into something
like a local legend—but I wanted to
make sure that was all right with II.
Please let me know ASAP.
By the time deadline hit, she’d
almost forgotten about it, beyond a
nagging sense of annoyance at Laura.
There was a reply from Chris in her
inbox. Understandable. Paul will want
the interview exclusively with you, but
we’ll see if we can find some material
that will interest her as well. (I’m
pretty sure she’s the Laura Moore I
attended Stone Rock College with back
in the day—ask her if she remembers
me.) Very much looking forward to
seeing you Thurs.
C
Abby sighed. That just figured.
Whatever Laura pulled, there always
seemed to be someone who knew her,
and was ready to grease the wheels for
her. At least the interview with Paul
would still be hers. She’d just make the
most of what she had, like she’d done
for years.
4
“You will never guess what
happened,” Chris said as Paul came
back into his office. He was sitting
behind Paul’s desk with his feet up.
“Meeting went great,” Paul said.
“Your slides were a huge help, couldn’t
have done it without you—”
Chris waved his words away. “I
told you you’d be fine. Sit down, I’ve
got a story.”
“This is my office,” Paul said.
“My story,” Chris replied. “You’ve
got the interview with Abby, Thursday
afternoon, already on your calendar. So I
email to confirm, and not half an hour
later she emails back. Her managing
editor’s invited herself along.”
“You said no,” Paul said. He
wasn’t even sure he wanted Abby doing
an interview; he certainly didn’t need an
extra reporter snooping around asking
questions.
“I was going to,” Chris said. “But
then I realized her name looked
familiar.” He held up a tablet with a
LinkedIn page. Laura Moore. She was a
pale, average-looking white woman with
chestnut brown hair.
“Who is she?”
“You know I was still in college
when Mom died. She came to my dorm,
all sympathetic, helped me pack stuff for
my leave of absence—and then plastered
it all over the front page of the campus
paper.” He shook his head and put the
tablet back down. “Didn’t say a word to
me after that, up to and including
graduation.”
“I’m sorry,” Paul said. They’d
talked a lot about that plane crash, but
that detail hadn’t surfaced.
“So I said we’d be happy to have
her along. I’m planning a personal tour,
while you get to have the beautiful Abby
all to yourself.” He steepled his fingers
together like a supervillain. “Now it’s
possible she’s changed and she and
Abby are big buddies now. But
something about the way Abby wrote the
email makes me think she’s up to her old
tricks. Anything for a story.” Chris’s
smile was bright and sadistic. “So I’m
going to give her one.”
“Don’t get us sued,” Paul said
skeptically.
“She won’t even know what hit
her.”
Paul dropped the papers from his
meeting on the desk. “Maybe this is a
sign. Maybe I shouldn’t do an
interview.”
“Shut it,” Chris said. “You’re doing
the interview. It’s going to be great. For
both of us.”
“I had no idea you were so
vicious,” Paul lied.
Chris just laughed.
Thursday came both too quickly
and not quickly enough. Paul woke every
morning thinking of Abby, her soft
curves, the way her curly hair framed
her face. Every morning he wondered if
her skin was as soft as it looked. What it
would be like to kiss those round, full
lips. Most mornings he woke up with his
hand on his dick.
Chris had something ‘very, very
special’ planned for Laura Moore. Paul
hadn’t dared ask for more details. He’d
promised—multiple
times—that
Inti
wouldn’t get sued, at least. And he knew
Chris would have a hell of a story later.
Maybe if Paul was lucky, he’d get a
story too. Maybe Abby would….
Shit. He was getting ahead of
himself. There was no guarantee that
anything would happen at all. He’d do
the interview, play nice, hope for the
best. Ask her out at the end, so there was
no idea of a quid pro quo. That was all
he could do. Maybe, if he was lucky, all
he needed to do. There’d been chemistry
there, he could tell.
He was as nervous as a teenager at
the dance, hoping the girl he had a crush
on would notice him. Ridiculous.
He’d taken an extra hour last night
picking out his suit and tie. He’d worn
cologne, which he almost never did
unless he was going to a fundraiser or
something equally ridiculous. Maybe
he’d made a good first impression, but
anyone could fuck up a second
impression if they weren’t careful.
Paul hadn’t made it where he was
by not being careful.
And when he saw Abby waiting at
the door in a beautiful purple suit, he
didn’t regret a second he’d spent getting
ready.
Her dark hair was pulled back from
her face, giving him a wonderful view of
her high cheekbones and big eyes. He
wanted to call off the interview and just
take her home, pull her into bed and
never let her go.
Chris was ushering her and Laura
Moore into the waiting room. Paul
wondered how he’d explain that Laura
and Abby were taking two separate
tours. He’d certainly be able to pull it
off—Chris could talk an atheist into
going to church—but he was a little
curious as to what his method was going
to be.
Chris would tell him later. He
always did.
Right now, he needed to focus on
Abby. Chris was going to take her
straight to his office to start, in part to
get Laura off to...wherever she was
going, in part because it would finally be
his chance to have her alone. All to
himself.
He swallowed. He was so damn
nervous. Over nothing. She was just—
Just your mate, the cat reminded
him.
Maybe he’d been wrong that night.
Maybe—
No, you’re not wrong, the cat said.
Go on. Meet your destiny.
Man, the cat could be cheesy.
Lindsay brought Abby to his office.
She looked even prettier in person. “It’s
nice to see you again,” he said,
extending his hand.
“Thank you,” she said. “Believe
me, we’re very happy to get a look
behind the scenes at Inti International.
You’ve got a big operation going here,
considering how new you are here.” She
smelled like flowers and soap and
woman. All he wanted to focus on was
her beauty, her scent. It wasn’t going to
be an easy interview.
“I confess, a lot of this space isn’t
used. We had an excellent opportunity
come our way, and if we don’t expand in
line with projections, we can always
rent out some space. I’ve wanted to host
an incubator space for a long time, this
might be our opportunity. It’s hard to find
affordable space in the city.” He
gestured at the door. “Do you want the
tour first, or—”
“The tour would be great,” she
said. “If you don’t mind. Though—will
we run into Laura and Chris? I wouldn’t
want—”
“Can I tell you something off the
record?” he said. “I know it’s early in
the interview—”
“It depends,” she said. “Corporate
secrets...maybe not so much. But—”
“Nah, this is simple,” he said.
“Chris went to college with your
managing editor, and apparently she had
a little bit of a reputation, shall we say.”
“Oh,” Abby said, like everything
came into bright focus with his words.
He liked the way her mouth made that
pretty little O.
“I guess she hasn’t changed much?”
He winked at her. “You don’t have to
answer that. Anyway, he promised me
we won’t get sued, but I wouldn’t hold
my breath that we’ll run into each other.”
He opened the door for her. “It’s
not that exciting a tour anyway, mostly
nice people sitting in offices typing. One
of the reasons I’d like to do an incubator
space is it’d be fun to be part of making
something for a change. We’re doing a
market study right now to see where we
could help support local industry—and
you can put that on the record, if you’re
taking notes.” They walked into the
corridor. “We’re going to go to the end
of the hallway, take the first left.”
“There’s a woman in town who
does jams and jellies out of her house, if
you want a number,” she said. “I mean—
I know the studies are more official, but
sometimes—”
“Sometimes it really helps to talk to
the people on the ground, no, you’re
right.”
She walked with such grace. Low
heels, practical, but pretty. He could
watch her swaying along all day, like
there was unheard music in her ears.
He couldn’t stop staring. She
glanced at him as she turned. “Is this the
right way?”
“You’re right on track,” he said.
To his pleasure, Abby knew her
stuff. She asked the right questions about
the operation, about their financing,
about their future plans. The interview
was half-over by the time they got back
to his office. Which, well, was fine with
Paul.
Chris was sitting back at his desk
when Paul and Abby got back. “Oh, hey,
did you have a good time?” Chris looked
entirely innocent. Suspiciously innocent.
“Where’s Laura?” Paul asked.
“Oh, she’s all set,” Chris said.
“Sent her on her way with a USB drive
full of information. A good reporter’d
get a decent story out of it, so I doubt
she’ll get much.” He turned casually
back to his screen.
“Chris,” Paul hissed.
“No,” Abby said. She was smiling.
“It’s...it’s okay.” She glanced at him, a
little shyly. “You trusted me, I guess I
can trust you.”
“She deserved everything she got,”
Chris said, waggling his finger. “She
pretended like she didn’t even know
me.”
“Maybe she didn’t remember you,”
Paul said, then realized that would be
worse.
“She’s terrible,” Chris said. “I
regret nothing. I’ll hold your calls until
the interview’s done?”
“Thank you,” Paul said, and got the
door for Abby.
“I like him,” she said, as the door
shut.
“His
job
title
is
Executive
Assistant, but don’t let that fool you,” he
said. “He’s almost my partner, but he’d
rather be the force in the shadows.”
“I understand that,” she said. “I bet
he doesn’t have to field half the
questions you do.”
“Oh, he gets more of them,” he
said, “but he says ‘You’ll have to ask
Mr. Larson about that.’ It’s a good scam,
really.” He didn’t want them sitting
across from each other at the desk. Too
formal. “Would you mind if we sat at the
table?”
“Of course not,” she said, “it’s your
interview. And I think I have a lot of
what I need about the business and the
direction you’re going to be taking it in.”
Her smile was so sweet. “But a little
more about your background, that’d be
great. It feels like you came out of
nowhere.”
He’d been afraid of that question.
“There’s really not much to say. Went to
the Wharton School, earned an MBA,
got a very lucky internship at Castle
Investments and went on from there.” He
shrugged. “My mother and I...she taught
me so much, more than I ever learned at
Wharton, honestly. She was...she made
me who I am.”
“She’s—she’s passed away?”
“She died…years ago, now,” he
said. “I miss her every day.” She would
have had the answers. She would have
helped him through this, helped him
figure out what to do next. How to tell
Abby the truth.
Though she hadn’t really had much
luck in love herself, had she?
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He wasn’t sure what to say to her.
He’d always had more luck with the
business side of things than the personal.
“Thank you. Um...do you have any other
questions?”
“Of course.” Her smile was so
warm. “But I’m not sure you’re going to
answer them.”
“You’re...very perceptive,” he said,
feeling his gut stir. She was so beautiful,
so perfect—why did she have to be so
smart, too? He’d always liked intelligent
women, but it felt like Abby could see
straight through him.
He might as well put his cards on
the table. “I have to confess something,”
he said. “It’s true that we knew there
were a lot of questions about me and
Inti. But we chose you for a
rather...personal reason. I hope you
found what you wanted out of this
profile, but I also wanted...I wanted the
interview to be with you. I—I saw you
at the party, and I’d like to get to know
you better. But the story is yours,
whether or not you want to come to
dinner with me.”
“Dinner?” she said.
“Or coffee,” he said. “I’m not fussy.
I just want to get to know you better.”
She looked a little skeptical. “Can
we wait until I file the article?”
“Of course,” he said. “But I hope
you’re not planning on working on it for
a month.”
She smiled, those soft, full lips
looking like they needed to be kissed. “I
don’t think I could sit on an exclusive
interview with you for more than a week
if I tried.” She tapped her pencil against
her notebook. “But you’re going to have
to be a little more forthcoming for me to
have a good interview.”
That was exactly what he’d been
afraid of.
5
Paul didn’t seem to like that
answer. Well, too bad. She had a job to
do.
“Surely you don’t need to hear me
talking about how much I like long walks
on the beach.”
She shook her head. “I was thinking
more about where you grew up, what
influenced you as a child. Why you
chose investment as a career. Maybe
even where you got your first capital.”
She raised her eyebrows. These aren’t
unreasonable questions, she thought in
his direction. He certainly should have
expected them in any interview.
“That’s quite a few questions.”
“I can ask them again,” she said. He
was handsome, and charming, and she’d
had a great time learning about the
business, but she was still a reporter and
he was still a CEO, offer of a date or no.
She had a job to do.
He
smirked.
“You’re
very
professional.”
“I hope that’s a compliment.”
“Mostly,” he conceded. “At any
rate, I grew up in a lot of places, we
moved around. Spent quite a bit of time
in California. And I think investment
chose me more than the other way
around; I was good at it, and I kept doing
it. My startup was boosted by my
mother’s savings...I missed one.”
He had a good memory. “What
influenced you,” she said. “Did you
grow up reading the stock market
reports?”
He laughed. “I spent most of my
time outside,” he said.
“Unless it was raining?”
“Even then,” he confessed. “Even
now I’d rather be outside than in the
office. That’s half the reason we’re all
on tablets here, it gives me a lot more
flexibility.” He waved at the window.
“And half the reason my windows are
open most of the time. I wasn’t kidding
about wanting to spend more time in
Salem Beach. I’d much rather be by the
ocean and trees than in the concrete
jungle.”
That made sense. He was in great
shape, but he didn’t look like any kind of
gym rat. She could picture him out in the
sun, his face craned back to catch the
sunlight. Like a cat on a park bench, she
thought, and the wondered where the
thought had come from.
“Anything else?”
She
knew
he
was
holding
something back, but was there any point
in pushing further? Probably not. As it
was, she had more personal information
from him than any other interviewer had
grabbed. That wasn’t too shabby. And
maybe she could get a little more if she
dug into his mother’s history. She’d been
a big influence, and her money couldn’t
have just materialized out of nowhere—
well, it was unlikely at least. It would
give her something to work with,
anyway. “I don’t think so,” she said.
“Good. What about the other
offer?” His eyes were animated,
dancing.
“Don’t you want to see if you like
the article first?”
“That would be wise, I suppose.
But gambling’s paid off for me before.
I’m willing to take the chance.”
There was a buzz. “Paul, I’m sorry,
but there’s—there’s something you need
to come out here for. Just a second.”
“I swear to God, if he gets us sued
—” Paul got up. “Would you excuse me?
‘Just a second.’”
Abby nodded. “It’s fine,” she said.
“Take your time.”
“Make yourself at home,” he said.
She looked around after he left. The
office was beautiful, sleek and modern,
but with some touches that made it feel
genuinely human and lived-in. There
was beaded art on the wall that looked
South American, and a shelf of little
sculptures. She got up and looked at
them. They looked South American, too,
and were all of big cats, panthers or
jaguars. They were beautiful.
Did they have a special meaning to
him, or did he just like cats? Something
to keep in mind, anyway. She’d have to
ask him about the South American
influence in the office. Even if he evaded
her, that would tell her something.
It’d be easier if he wasn’t so hot.
“You like big cats?” He’d come
back in, as quietly as if he was a cat
himself.
She didn’t jump. It was a little
close for a second, and her heart
jumped, but she did not jump. “Ah,” she
said. “I...I guess so. Maybe not as much
as you do.”
“My mother—the great cats were
very special to her,” he said, and she got
the impression that he was choosing his
words carefully. “They’re special to me
too.”
“This art is beautiful,” she said. “Is
it all South American?”
“Mostly,” he said. “My mother was
mixed race—Spanish and Quechua—and
she was very proud of our heritage. But
not all this art is Quechua. I’m not...I
guess I just pick the things that appeal to
me. But I try to keep the pre-Columbian
focus. I like having a theme in here, a
little personality.”
“It’s nice,” she said. It was. “A lot
of offices, the big ones, feel like anyone
could be there. This...feels more like
you.”
“Thank you,” he said, turning his
beautiful smile on her. It made her chest
tighten up.
No one should be that handsome or
smell that good. There ought to be a law.
He picked up a beautiful beaded
jaguar head so she could look at it more
closely. “This one’s from Western
Mexico. Isn’t it beautiful?”
It was covered with beads,
probably thousands of them, in eye-
popping color. The beads traced line and
patterns around the cat’s features as they
shimmered in the light. “It is,” she
agreed.
“I confess,” he said meaningfully,
“I’ve always been drawn to beauty.”
Well, that was flattering. “You
really would like me to go on that date
with you.”
“I really would.” He put the jaguar
back on the shelf. “I’m good company, I
swear. And I’m not a cheap tipper. I may
be a rich asshole, but at least I’m a rich
asshole who won’t embarrass you.”
“You...you don’t seem like an
asshole,” she confessed.
“Try not to be,” he said. “So,
dinner?”
“I...I guess so,” she said. “After the
article goes to press. And don’t think
this means you’ll get a sneak peek.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.
“Do you like to dance?”
“Sometimes,” she said.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He took
her hand, and pressed it for a second to
his lips. The sensation rocked her from
head to toe. “But I’ll warn you, that night
I’ll be asking some questions. I’d like to
know all about you, Ms. Bailey.”
“I...I’ll keep that in mind,” she said,
taking her hand back from him. “I...ought
to be going. I’ll email Chris with any
questions?”
“You can email me directly,” he
said. “The same protocol, firstname dot
lastname at the company domain. I’ll be
happy to answer.”
“Thank you,” she stammered. She
got out before she did something she’d
regret.
6
Well, it was a start anyway. She’d
seemed to like him. And he and the cat
were agreed: she was fantastic, perfect,
curvy and gorgeous, and he wanted to
cover her in jewels.
All he had to do was wait.
That would be easier if he had any
patience.
Chris swept in. “Well?” he said.
“She was smiling.”
“It...it was all right. Fine. I think
she’ll agree to coffee, at least.” He
smiled a little. “She liked my cats.”
“See?” Chris grinned. “I told you.”
“What did you do to Laura
Moore?”
“I gave her a personal tour of our
state-of-the-art conservation facilities,
of
course,”
Chris
grinned.
“The
recycling, composting, waste sorting—”
“You put her knee-deep in trash and
shit,” Paul said wryly.
Chris shrugged his shoulders.
“Sometimes you have to go with the
classics. Like I said, she could get an
excellent article out of it if she was
willing to put in the work—we’ve
wanted to encourage more businesses to
follow our model all along. You want
some coffee? I’d kill for a latte.”
“Yeah,
you
can
grab
me
something,” he said. “Um, iced chai? I
can give you some cash.”
“You can get me next time,” Chris
said. “Besides, I owe you. Did I tell you
I took a picture of Laura in her waders at
the composter?”
Paul laughed.
Chris had rented him a temporary
place halfway between Paul’s office in
the city and Salem Beach, a duplex
owned by an older woman who seemed
not at all impressed by his expensive
suit or Kenzo Pour Homme cologne. He
liked her. He liked the duplex even
more. It was nice to be out of the city, in
a place where he could smell the ocean
and see the stars at night.
He might even be able to let the cat
out on dark nights. He usually went to
one of the state parks when they were
closed, but it would be nice to not have
to drive half an hour just to go for a run.
And he could bring Abby here. A
lot easier than driving out to the city.
They could both commute. There was a
nice fireplace, and in the fall—
He was getting ahead of himself.
But he wanted to have a place for her. A
place where they could stay together,
where they could sleep in on the
weekend. Watch movies in bed. Where
he could cover Abby in jewels.
He had a text from Chris. How’s the
place?
Perfect, you’re right.
Told you. We can double date.
No sign of the article?
Too soon. Haven’t seen the big
feature on our recycling program
either.
Paul grinned. Want to grab a
drink?
No can do, hot date.
At least one of us has a hot date,
he thought. Maybe he’d hear from Abby
tonight. He really wanted to see her.
Touch her. Kiss her.
The cat didn’t like waiting. Neither
did he.
Maybe he’d just drive out to Salem
Beach, hang out for a while. Maybe he’d
run into her. It was supposed to rain
later, but he didn’t really mind the rain.
Pathetic, sure. But worth a try.
Salem Beach was a nice little town.
Unlike a lot of the suburbs, it had grown
up naturally, and it had a lovely town
square with a big green park at the
center. The Salem Beach Times had an
office just off the square, a converted
brick building. He drove past it, but
coming in would’ve been too weird. As
it was, if anyone saw him, he had no
idea what his excuse would be. Maybe
looking for that branch office? Getting a
feel for the area? That would work.
There was a tiny little cafe just
around the corner from the office. He
parked the car; he could grab some
coffee and watch people go by. Maybe
Abby would pass the window. He could
wave at her, maybe she’d come in....
Eh, at least he could have some
coffee.
The woman behind the counter was
around his age, a tall, curvy woman. She
had pale skin and dark, dark hair, like a
raven’s wing, and a face that looked like
it was always on the verge of a smile.
“What’s your poison?” she asked.
“Um, just a black coffee, I guess.”
“Ethiopian or Jamaican? They’re
both good. The Jamaican’s more of a
dark roast.”
“Jamaican, please.”
“You got it.”
It was a nice little shop, with
beautiful black-and-white photography
on the white-painted walls. The photos
used light perfectly; many of them
seemed to glow, especially the ones of
the ocean. They looked like they’d been
taken locally. There was one picture he
liked most of all, of a cat napping in the
sunlight.
When the woman brought his
coffee, in a big white ceramic mug, he
asked her about the photos. “Oh,” she
said, “friend of mine does them. She’s
really good, isn’t she?”
He took a sip of the coffee. It was
excellent. “Are they for sale?”
She grinned. “I’m sure they could
be. I’d have to ask her, but I bet she’d
make you a print. You want her
number?”
“That’d be wonderful. I’ve just
rented a place not far from here, and the
walls are pretty empty. Well, there’s a
framed picture of an ocean scene
that...well, I think maybe I saw it in an
episode of Miami Vice once. Not really
my thing.” Chris had more stuff coming
in, but it would be nice to have
something up he’d picked himself.
She laughed. “I get you there. You
moving this way?”
“Second home,” he said. “Sounds
kind of pretentious when you put it that
way, but I wanted a place outside the
city.”
“Sounds nice. You got your
phone?”
“Sure,” he said, and pulled it out.
“All right, her name’s Abby Bailey,
and her number’s—”
He laughed. “I’ve got her number. I
just had an interview with her earlier
this week.”
“Wait—” She squinted at him. “Are
you...you’re not Paul Larson?”
He couldn’t lie to a friend of
Abby’s. Not and hope to get away with
it. “Afraid so.”
“Well oh well,” she said, like a
shark that had just scented blood. “So
you’re going to take her out?”
“That’s...what I offered, yes.” They
were friends, or Abby had done a lot of
talking. Paul hoped for the latter.
The woman slid into the chair
across from him. “You know where
you’re going?”
“Well, that’ll be up to her,” he said.
“I figured I’d ask her if she wanted to go
into the city or tay here in Salem Beach.”
“There’s a nice tavern just outside
town,” she said. “The Ram’s Head, my
cousin owns it. Good food, not cheap but
not snooty or anything.”
“Sounds nice,” he said. And it
wouldn’t make Abby uncomfortable if it
wasn’t too expensive. He didn’t want to
be the kind of guy who dazzled his date
with his wealth. Abby was too important
for that crap.
“I’d take her there.” She glanced
across the coffee shop, checking to see if
anyone needed attention. There was only
one other person in the shop, an older
woman in a pastel green suit reading a
book. The sun had disappeared. Were
the clouds rolling in? “You won’t regret
it.”
“Well, thanks for the advice,” he
said. “While I’ve got your attention, any
idea how I can get one of these pictures
home without her thinking I’m kissing
ass?”
She tapped her fingers on the table
for a second. “I guess I could sell it to
you,” she said. “Tell Abby that a guy
came in, offered me good money to take
it right off the wall.” She smirked. “Of
course, you’ll have some explaining to
do if you get lucky.”
“I’ll cross that bridge if I get
there,” he said, lifting his cup again. He
liked this woman.
“Customer’s always right,” she
said, getting out of the chair and getting
up. “You realize I have to charge extra if
I’m going to sell the art right off the wall
—which one did you want?”
“The cat,” he said, “and that’s fine.
How much? I might have enough cash.”
“Cash sounds fantastic. The cat?
That’s one of the bigger ones—four
hundred
sound
all
right?
It’s
professionally framed, right here in
town, custom mat they did a great job.”
“I’m
sold,”
he
said.
“Four
hundred’s fine, and I’ve got it.” He
pulled out his wallet and started
counting out the cash.
“She said you liked cats,” she said,
taking the picture off the wall. “Cash
works better anyway for the story. ‘This
guy came in with a fat roll of—’wow,
fifty-dollar bills. Nice.”
“You’re right,” he said. “That is a
good story. Pleasure doing business with
you.”
“Likewise,” she said, taking the
money from the table and handing him
the photo. “You have a great day, Mr.
Larson.”
“Paul,” he said. “Please. I’m not
much on formality.”
“Well, I hope I’ll see more of you,
Paul.” She smiled. “I’m Tina.”
“I’ll stop by again,” he said. “Good
coffee. Do I take my cup up, or leave it
here?”
“I’ll get it,” she said. “You’re good
to go whenever.”
He drained his cup, got up, and
walked the photo to the door—right as
Abby walked through it. “Oh,” he said.
“Um...nice to see you.”
He heard Tina mutter “busted”
under her breath.
7
Paul Larson, billionaire corporate
entrepreneur, looked like a little kid
who’d just been caught with his hand in
the cookie jar. He had something—he
had one of Tina’s photos under his arm.
The cat?
“He made me do it,” Tina called
out.
“Do...do what?” What the hell had
they been up to?
Paul held up ‘Sunday Morning
Catnap’ sheepishly. “I liked your
picture.”
“He didn’t realize it was yours,”
Tina said. “I’m a witness.” She picked
Dora’s empty plate off her table. Dora
was ignoring all of them, lost in
whatever she was reading this week.
“He figured if he bought it from me it
wouldn’t look like kissing ass.”
“You two are a regular pair of
secret agents,” Abby said. She looked at
Paul. He looked...well, he looked great.
He was wearing a collared dark green
shirt, no jacket or tie, with dark tailored
pants. Slacks, her grandmother would’ve
said.
“I don’t think I’ll quit my day job
for a career in international espionage,”
he said. “Have you filed that article
yet?”
“You’re in luck,” she said. “Just
did. But are you sure you don’t want to
see it before you get this whole ‘date’
thing set up?”
“Hey, I asked even before I knew
you were a great photographer,” he said.
“And there’s this nice woman I met, real
friendly, good cook—”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, and she says there’s a nice
place right down the road. The Ram’s
Head.”
“Yeah, you can’t trust her,” she
teased. “Got family there. You know
these small towns. Nepotism.” Tina
pretended to ignore her.
“You dropped in for coffee?”
“It’s kind of my treat for a job well
done,” she said. She got to hang out with
Tina and drink something delicious.
“How ‘bout I get yours? I wouldn’t
mind a second cup.”
“I’ll fill you up,” Tina said. “You
want your usual, Abby?”
“Please,” she said. She deserved
something sweet. Other than Paul. “You
have raspberry?”
“I do! You want one, Paul? They’re
really good. On the house, since you’ve
already been so generous.”
“Sure,” he said. “Raspberry what?”
“Turnovers,” she said. “With icing
on top.”
“That does sound good,” he said,
sitting back down by what must have
been his cup. “Sure.”
“So what brings you out here?”
Abby asked, sitting across from him.
“You can’t just be wondering if I filed
that article.”
“Remember I told you I was
thinking about getting some property out
here?”
“You did,” she said.
“I just took a nice rental, about ten
minutes out of town in Washburn Bay.”
He nodded at the photo, which he’d
propped up against the table. “That’s
what your picture’s for.”
“You really do like cats,” she said.
“Guys are usually dog people.”
“Dogs are fine in their place,” he
said. “But I liked the photo. And I am
fond of cats.”
“I know.” She couldn’t help
smiling. It was...nice, that he’d liked her
picture. Really nice. And she knew that
Tina wouldn’t lie that she hadn’t told
him whose photos they were.
“So are the pastries made here?”
Abby nodded. “Tina gets up at like
four every morning. I don’t know how
she does it.”
“I go home after the cafe closes and
take a nap,” Tina said, putting their
pastries in front of them. “Then I get up
again and have dinner, whatever else I’m
doing for the night. Go to bed at ten,
usually, do it all over again. It works
pretty well.”
Abby shook her head. “I still don’t
know how you do it.”
“I’ve read that people are more
productive if they take naps,” Paul said.
“Makes sense.” He lifted up his coffee
and took a long drink.
Abby found herself watching his
throat work. He had a strong jaw. Nice
mouth. I need to stop staring, she
thought to herself.
She picked up the turnover and took
a bite instead. It was perfect, like usual,
the sweet and tart flavors balanced and
the turnover itself nice and flaky.
“That looks so good,” Paul said,
and Abby wasn’t sure if he was talking
about the turnover or...well, her.
“Um, you should try it,” she said,
and damn, did she just spit out crumbs?
She put her fingers up to her mouth,
trying not to feel awkward.
“I think I should,” he said, and if
that didn’t warm her from top to toe, she
didn’t know what would. His voice was
like chocolate.
“So...you’ve got a place out here?
That’s kind of sudden, isn’t it?”
“It probably seems that way,” he
said, picking up his turnover. “But nah,
I’ve wanted to have a place closer to the
branch office for a while; Chris spent a
lot of time looking fo me.” He took a
bite of the turnover and grinned. He
wasn’t self-conscious at all.
Abby wondered how it would feel
to be like that.
“This is really, really good,” he
said, through his mouthful. “Mm, ‘scuse
me—”
He swallowed, picked up his
coffee and took a drink. “She’s a good
cook,” he said. “You’ve got good taste in
friends—good coffee, good pastries,
tried to help me out—”
“Lied for you,” she said.
“She didn’t,” he said. “She was just
ready to...well, stretch the truth a little,
that’s all. Selective honesty. Good
friends, they do that stuff for you.”
“Well, I’m glad you found this
place, anyway,” she said. “Tina works
hard.”
“I guess she does,” he said. “It’s
earlier than I’d want to wake up. And
while I wouldn’t mind having to work
with my hands every once in a while,
I’m not sure I’d want to have to make
everything right, every time, every day.”
The bell rang and a couple came in,
laughing and talking. They went up to the
counter and started talking with Tina.
“You have to make things right,
though,” she said.
“But it’s not just me,” he said. “I’ve
got a whole staff, not just Chris. They
can call me on my bullshit. Honestly, I
need that sometimes.”
“You’re a lot more candid now the
interview’s over,” she teased.
He looked a little embarrassed.
“I...I just feel like I can be honest with
you,” he said. “There’s something
special about you. I knew it the first time
I looked at you.”
“That’s very romantic, I guess,” she
said, picking up her pastry again. “But...I
don’t know, I guess I never believed in
stuff like love at first sight.” I sure never
thought anyone would talk to me about
it.
“My mother told me that someday
I’d
find
the
right
woman,
and...everything would fall in place.” He
waved vaguely, like he was trying to
describe the world changing with a
gesture.
“And you believed her?”
“I did,” he said. “Of course I did.
She was very rarely wrong.”
“I wish I could have met her,”
Abby said. “You talk about her a lot.”
“She’s been on my mind lately,” he
said thoughtfully. “She taught me so
much about life, and—things that I didn’t
even realize were important, I was too
young.”
“How old were you when she
died?”
“In college,” he said. “Undergrad.
It’s—it’s how I met Chris, actually. She
—do you remember Ocean Air? Flight
252?”
“The plane crash?” Her stomach
clenched. “Oh, I’m...I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” he said, “but—it’s
better now. Chris lost his mom, too, we
met in a support group for survivors,
and...we just clicked, I guess.” He
shrugged his shoulders.
“We had a lot in common—Chris’s
parents are both from Columbia, like my
mother was. He’s got more Quechua
heritage than I do—Mom had a lot of
Spanish, too—but we’ve got a lot in
common. He’s pretty much the only guy I
know who gets it when I tell him to cut
out the sonsochakoq bullshit.”
“Sonsochakoq?”
“It’s kind of like playing dumb, or
putting on a front. When you’re at your
desk pretending to work hard, that’s
sonsochakoq.”
“Interesting,” she said. “So you and
Chris go back a while too.”
“I wasn’t kidding when I said I
didn’t know what I’d do without him,”
he said, lifting his coffee cup again.
“What about you and Tina?”
“She’s been here her whole life,”
Abby said. “I started coming here in
college—I had an internship at the
Salem Beach Times—and she worked
here. It was different then, this big Greek
guy owned it, and Tina just worked
there. But she was already baking for
him, and he retired to Florida a couple
years back. She bought the business from
him, redecorated, and now—” She
gestured. “It’s hers.”
“She’s done a hell of a job,” he
said. “I start staying here, I’m going to
bring a whole bunch of these into the
office. Instant hero.”
“I wish that would work at my
job,” she said. Would he realize—?
He did. Damn it, did he have to be
perceptive too? “I thought—they don’t
appreciate you?”
“I’m—most of them do, it’s fine.”
“Laura,” he said.
She didn’t say anything, but she
didn’t really need to.
“Has she always been like this to
you?” His face showed concern. He
seemed genuine.
“I guess so?” She shrugged. “It’s
never been a big deal. She wants the big
stories, and I don’t really care. I like it
here, I don’t really want a big job in the
city. I’d have to be on call all the time. I
couldn’t just leave my phone at home
and just veg out at the beach, or take the
weekend off. That’s what she wants, and
I hope she gets it.”
“Gets her out of your hair sooner,
right?”
She smiled in spite of herself.
“Everyone wins. But...don’t say too
much about it here, okay? The owner
thinks she’s the best thing since sliced
bread. I don’t want him to think I’m trash
talking her or anything.” She took a
drink. “Like I said, I like my job.”
“I’m eager to see the article,” he
said. “You asked all the right questions,
even the ones I was sort of hoping you
wouldn’t ask.”
“You don’t have that many secrets
to hide, do you?”
His smile was self-effacing. “Aside
from my secret identity as a superhero?
Nah, not really.”
“Well, then, you shouldn’t have
been worried.” She didn’t have much
coffee left. Pretty soon she’d have to
make some excuses and go. She couldn’t
spend all day there, as tempting as it
sounded.
“The paper’s weekly, right?”
She
nodded.
“Articles
are
subscription only for the first week. We
figure that there might be a little bump in
subscriptions this week after people
found out about the profile.”
He laughed. “A little.”
They figured at least the major
media outlets would be asking for
access. It could give their little
operation a real boost. And even though
she was annoyed with Ted for falling for
Laura’s bull, she wanted Salem Beach
Now to do well. She really did like
working at the paper, being part of a
community.
She traced the edge of her coffee
mug with her finger. She didn’t know
what to say.
Paul didn’t seem to mind her
silence. He just sat, drinking his coffee,
finishing off his pastry. He...seemed
happy just to be with her.
A loud crack of thunder hit, so hard
and close the building shook a little.
Abby jumped in her seat. So much for
being cool.
Though the lightning seemed to
have distracted Paul, too. “That came on
fast,” he said.
“It was getting dark when I came
in.”
“Did you—did you walk here? I
should give you a ride.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she
said.
There was another bright flash—
she hadn’t caught the first one, but this
one was hard to miss—and a second
window-jarring crack of thunder.
“I think I really should,” he said,
his eyebrows raised in alarm.
He might be right.
“It’s not raining yet,” he said,
standing up. “Let’s get going before we
get drenched.” He grabbed his photo and
tucked it under his arm.
“Yeah, I guess we should. You
really don’t have to—”
Another crash of thunder. “I really
think I should,” he protested.
He wasn’t wrong.
“All right,” she said, getting up.
“Thank you.” What kind of car did he
have? Did he go for something showy, or
more understated?
“Just follow me,” he said. “Have a
good afternoon, Tina!”
“You too!” she called.
The rain started halfway there, but
she could see a sleek dark blue car.
Sporty, but not insanely expensive. Nice.
He lifted up his keychain and
pressed the buttons, unlocking the doors.
He carefully tucked the picture into the
backseat.
Abby slid in. The car had leather
seats. They felt warmed from the sun,
after how cool the rain had been. Her
hair was damp and there were wet drops
on her arms. “The rain hit fast.”
“It
sure
did,”
he
said.
“Now...where to? Back to the office?”
She didn’t actually have to go back
to the office. “Um, I was actually headed
home.”
“I can drop you off, it’s no
problem,” he said. “I’m...not insulted if I
just leave you at your door.”
“It’s not far. Just a couple of blocks
on Oak Street.”
“Oak is the one on the left?”
“Yeah, left,” she said.
“At least you don’t have any one-
way streets here. I will not miss that
about the city.” He put on his turn signal.
“Are you in one of the converted mills?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Right by the
river.” She liked how cool it made the
apartment in summer, at least compared
to the rest of town, and she was lucky
enough to be able to see the river when
she looked out her window. Sometimes
on rainy or snowy days, she worked
from home, with her laptop near the
window. It was peaceful, then, and quiet.
They neared the bridge. There were
several cars parked on the side of the
road
with
their
four-ways
on.
“Something’s up,” Paul said, and pulled
over.
They both got out and walked
toward the river. The rain was falling a
lot harder now, and it had turned the
ground squishy under their shoes. They
got a little closer and realized there
were several men and women on the
bank, shouting to each other, trying to get
down to the water. Something was
wrong, really wrong.
“What’s going on?” she shouted
down to George Chung, who owned the
town’s only gallery.
“Someone fell in,” George shouted
back. “Looked like a kid. We’re trying to
get down there—”
“Has someone called the rescue
squad?”
George nodded. “But they can only
get here so fast, you know? And the
river’s high this year.”
It sure was, and it was moving fast.
She turned to look at Paul—
Paul was gone.
8
Paul ran.
He could hear the boy, clearer than
any non-shifter could. He was panicking.
Panicking could kill him.
He pulled his shirt over his head
and ran faster, harder. This was a risk, a
big risk. Mostly shifters stayed quiet.
People didn’t trust them. But he couldn’t
let a boy die for the sake of his career.
There was enough vegetation around
that, with luck, he would be hidden by
cover for most of his run. He unbuckled
his pants, and almost tripped kicking his
shoes off.
He didn’t bother taking off his
shorts. They’d slide off on their own.
He was about a hundred yards from
the boy when he hit the water.
The water was high, cold, and the
current was strong. No wonder the boy
was so scared. But Paul was a strong
swimmer even as a human, and the cat
was twice as powerful. He let the
current take him until he was close to the
boy, then grabbed the back of his shirt
with his teeth.
Gentle,
gentle,
he
reminded
himself. This is a child.
The boy screamed, startled.
Paul couldn’t speak or do anything
else to calm him. All he could do was
pull the boy to shore, doing his best to
keep his head above water.
The screaming seemed even louder
in jaguar form. His ears hurt, and the
struggling boy made swimming against
the current twice as hard. His heart was
pounding. This stuff always seemed
easier before you actually dove into the
water.
Man, you’d think this kid would be
out of breath by now.
Not that he could blame him: if
Paul was the one who’d fallen into the
river and then, after almost drowning,
was being dragged to the bank by a
jaguar, he’d be pretty freaked out too.
Hell, Paul could still remember the first
time he’d transformed, and that had been
terrifying.
The boy struck wildly at his back.
How old was he, nine or ten? Damn, just
a kid.
It felt like forever before he got to
the riverbank. He dragged the kid onto
the shore. The boy was coughing and
sputtering. Coughing meant breathing.
Breathing meant alive.
There were people running in their
direction. He had to go. Now. He didn’t
want to answer any of those questions.
He had the presence of mind to
remember that his keys and wallet were
in his pants, and he grabbed them with
his jaws before he ran into the
underbrush. The advantage of a jaguar’s
coat was that it blended into just about
anywhere, and it was doubly hard to see
in the rain.
He got under cover quickly and
found a tree to climb. There was a mist
rising from the rain.
All he had to do was wait it out.
But what was he going to do about
Abby?
She’s your mate, you idiot! And
you just left her there!
If
she’s
my
mate,
she’ll
understand. I had to save that boy!
The ambulance had just showed up,
the lights flashing. It would’ve taken a
while for them to get ready, and by then
who knew where the boy would have
been along the river?
I had no choice. She’ll understand
that.
Once you tell her you’re a jaguar.
How do you think that’s going to work
out?
He huddled into the foliage. The
rain felt like needles driving into his fur.
How had it cooled off so quickly?
He was in the Northeast. It wasn’t
like where he’d grown up. Sometimes he
missed California, the warmth and
sunlight. It was easier for him to do
business, easier to get away from his
family memories, but he was never going
to get used to the rapid changes in
weather.
He watched as the rescue workers
tended to the boy. He stirred, which was
a good sign, probably.
Well, whatever happened, I saved
a life.
Lost your mate, but saved a life.
Would you really have me choose
differently?
No. But I wish that it wasn’t so
wet.
He couldn’t shift back now. Not for
a while. He adjusted his pants under his
paws to keep them in place—
The branch was too wet. They
slithered down, before his claws could
catch them. Damn it.
Up a tree with no pants. Perfect.
Just perfect.
“That was a shifter,” someone said.
“Some kind of spotted animal—”
“I didn’t think there were any
around here—”
The voices buzzed and crossed
over one another. Everyone wanted to
see the shifter. Very few of his fellow
shifters were open about who they were.
There was too much scrutiny. Too many
questions. Too many people who would
want to put them in a lab and take them
apart to see how they ticked.
He couldn’t do that. Not to himself,
and not—
Not to his brother. They hadn’t seen
each other in years, but family was still
family. If he wasn’t a shifter, everyone
would still want a piece of him. And if
he was—
He hoped for Aaron’s case that he
wasn’t.
Abby was taking pictures. Paul
hoped her camera would withstand the
rain. She’d probably done this a hundred
times before. She can take care of
herself. You have enough problems.
He looked down. He could still see
his pants, at least.
They were going to be muddy.
He had no idea how he was going
to explain all this to Abby.
Time passed. He wasn’t sure how
much; time passed differently when he
was a cat. The world was no longer
carefully sectioned into seconds and
minutes.
Everything
was
slower,
smoother. Day slid gently into evening,
then night. He knew it was a while, but it
was hard to say how long.
Eventually, people started leaving.
First the boy in the ambulance, then
some of the bystanders.
Then Abby disappeared. It hurt a
little, but the boy was what mattered. He
couldn’t be anyone other than who he
was. And he certainly couldn’t have a
life on his conscience.
The rain had lightened a little,
though not enough to make it any drier.
But the mist had eased a little, and he
could see his sad, forlorn, muddy pants
at the foot of the tree.
It was probably dark and deserted
enough that he could start making his
way down. And at least he wouldn’t
have to worry about holding his pants in
his jaws.
“Paul?” That was Abby’s voice in
the distance. “Paul...I’ve got your shirt
and your shoes. I...I can look for your
pants if you need me to?” She sighed. “I
mean, if you’re out here.” He could hear
her shoes squelching in the mud. He’d
more or less abandoned her. Her shoes
were probably ruined.
He’d screwed all this up, but what
choice had he had?
“If you’re out there—I’m not angry
or anything. I wish you’d told me you
were going to be back, but—if I’m not
just talking to myself, or a wild animal,
you were really brave.”
That sent a shiver through his fur.
“So...um, I’ve got your clothes. I’m
not really sure what to do? Your car’s
still on the bank, I think you’ve got the
keys.”
Oh. Shit. Of course. He made his
way slowly down the tree. Her eyes
went wide, and she stood very, very
still.
That won’t help you with a cat, he
thought. He’d have t9o tell her. He got
down on the ground. At least this way he
was near his pants.
You shouldn’t look at this, he
thought. But he couldn’t figure out how
to tell her that. At least it was getting
dark and the mist was rising. He focused
and changed. The human came out, his
skin stretching and tightening. His breath
came faster, and by the time he was on
all fours, he was panting, sweat breaking
on his skin. It was always harder to go to
human. “I’m sorry,” he said, when his
voice had returned. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You saved his life,” Abby said.
“They...they said that another minute
might have—might have lost him.”
“Have they—”
“They’re treating him in case he’s
got pneumonia,” she said. “His mom’s
going to send me a text later, she said.
And that whoever pulled him out of the
river was a hero, and she’d like to make
him a pie.”
Maybe this wasn’t going to be as
bad as he’d feared.
“Does she make good pies?”
9
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve
never had one. I mean, it’s a pie, can’t
be that bad, right?”
He laughed. “Yeah, probably not.”
She had to laugh too. She was
soaked to her skin, under a tree, with a
man who could turn into a wild cat.
Holding the clothes of a man who
could turn into a wild cat.
Everyone knew there were shifters.
That they were rare. That they hid,
because people thought they were scary
or sinister or evil.
But no one really expected the
people they talked to—the people they
flirted with—to be shifters. To just turn
into....
She didn’t even know for sure.
“Can I ask—can I ask what you
are? Like, what kind of cat?” She
sounded ridiculous.
“I guess you have a right to,” he
said. “Ah, do you have my pants? It’s
getting dark and it’s taking my eyes a
while to adjust.”
“They’re—” She gestured to the
ground in front of him. “Do you need me
to get them?”
“I should be able to—” He
gestured. “If you could just—”
“Oh, sure,” she said, turning her
face.
“I’m a jaguar,” he said. “I...I don’t
mind the question. These are—shit, these
are really wet—hold on.” She could
hear him struggling with the fabric. She
hadn’t seen a lot of him on the ground,
but what she could make out was
muscular. Watching him now would be
—
Hot.
Wrong.
Okay, hot and wrong.
“All right,” he said. “You can turn
around. Um...I guess I should put my
shirt on.”
“We’re not that far from my
building, actually.” She handed over the
wet shirt. “You guys drifted pretty far
downriver. I think it’ll be easier to sneak
you in over the bank. I’ve got a washer
and a drier, so you can—dry out.”
“That would—” He took the shirt
from her hands. “I would really
appreciate that.”
“Everyone was so busy getting
Mike out of the river, I doubt anyone
was trying to track you. As long as I can
get you into the building, we’ll be fine.
They might wonder about the car, but I
can pull that around while your clothes
are drying, if that’s all right.”
“You are a hero,” he said, pulling
the drenched shirt over his head.
“I...I’m not the one that pulled a
ten-year-old out of the river.”
“That’s—” He sighed. “Maybe
we’re both heroes, I don’t know. You
really think you can sneak me into your
building?”
She tried to grin confidently. “I’m
going to try!”
“Lead on,” he said.
“And
then
I’ve
got
some
questions,” she said. “Not for the paper.
For me.”
He sounded a little...resigned?
“That’s fair.”
“There’s a little path, right here,”
she said. “Can you see it? It’s pretty
slippery, so just take it easy.”
“It’s getting better, I can make it
out.” He followed her to the riverbank.
“Did I ruin your shoes?”
Maybe? “They’ll be fine.”
“Next time I’ll tell you I’ll be back
at least,” he said. “I didn’t even think. I
just—I just ran.”
“That’s how you saved his life,”
she said. She hadn’t even heard him go.
Like a cat, she guessed.
There were wooden steps set into
the bank. His feet sounded steady behind
her. “I’ll look out when we get up to the
top. My building’s not too far away.”
“All right.”
Fortunately, there was no one in her
parking lot. She kept a lookout while he
crossed to the building. Normally she
didn’t take the elevator, but this felt like
a special case.
“How much further?” he asked
when they were safely headed up.
“I’m the first apartment on the right.
I’ll look out first.”
He pushed his wet hair back. “I
can’t tell you how much I appreciate
this.”
He was drenched and grimy and he
looked cold.
He also looked like a supermodel
on a photo shoot.
“I—it’s the least I can do,” she
stammered. She was pretty wet and cold
herself, though she’d grabbed her
umbrella from her apartment once she
figured out what was going on. Her hair
was spectacularly frizzy, and her shoes
were probably completely destroyed.
She’d gotten some good shots of the
rescue, though, and her article was half-
drafted in her head.
Mystery Shifter Saves Day
10-Year-Old Rescued By Unknown
Jaguar
The door opened, and she stuck her
head out into the hallway. “Coast is
clear,” she said.
They darted across the hallway and
she put her key in the lock, opening the
door as quickly as she could. He went
past her, fast and quiet again. Must be a
cat thing.
She closed and locked the door
behind her. When she turned around he
was already peeling his wet shirt over
his head.
Oh.
Oh, damn he was hot.
She went into the bathroom and got
a towel. Don’t think about his chest.
Don’t think about his eyes. Don’t think
about any of that.
“You can dry off before you use the
shower,” she said, handing him the towel
and trying not to stare. “Or—whatever.”
“I won’t drip all over your chair,
anyway,” he said. His skin was covered
in grime, but that only made his teeth
look whiter.
There ought to be a law against
looking that good.
“You should probably go in first,”
he said. “If I change back to the cat I
won’t be too cold, and you could really
get—”
She shook her head. “It’s fine,” she
said, “you—”
“I’m a mess,” he said. “But so are
you. And unless there’s something you’re
not telling me, you’re not going to
change into a polar bear or anything to
warm up.”
“Ah, no,” she said. “But I have dry
clothes here, and you don’t.”
She shouldn’t stare.
She was totally staring.
“This wasn’t what I had in mind,”
he said slowly, balling his wet shirt up
in his hands uncertainly. “I—I did want
to tell you. But—who says ‘hi, come out
to dinner with me, by the way, I can turn
into a jaguar?’”
Her voice sounded shaky. “Crazy
people?”
“Would you have believed me?”
“I...I don’t know.” It did sound kind
of crazy. But if any man she knew could
turn into a jaguar, it’d probably be Paul
Larson. Handsome, dark-haired, sexy,
Paul Larson, who was shirtless in her
living room and not wearing any
underwear.
“Is it...is it all right?” She hadn’t
turned on the lights yet—she hadn’t even
thought that far ahead—and it was hard
to make out Paul’s expression. Was he
worried? Hopeful?
Was she? Her heart was hammering
in her chest.
“All right?”
“I don’t—you’re not scared, or—”
“No.” How could she be? She’d
seen how gentle he had been with the
boy. And she trusted this man, even if
she had only met him once before. It
wasn’t like he was a wild animal.
He...could
just
turn
into
one.
“It’s...unusual, but—I’m not scared.
You’re—I’ve met you. I’ve talked with
you.” I’ve looked at you naked.
“My mother—she was a shifter,
like me. That’s where it was passed on
to me. And—when my father found out,
he was shocked. Disgusted. He...we
were on our own after that.”
“I—” Her heart went out to him,
and she stepped closer. “I’m so sorry.”
“We just had each other for a long
time. So—I never want to make the
mistake she did. No one wants to be
with someone who thinks you’re a
monster.”
But— “How could he think that?”
How could anyone? They’d been
together long enough to have children!
“He was—he wasn’t a cruel man,”
Paul said slowly. “But he was afraid.
And he cared a lot about appearances,
about what other people thought. I guess
he thought there would be a scandal.
That people would think less of him that
he married a shifter, that his wife was a
big cat.”
It sounded pretty cruel to Abby.
“Did he know you were a shifter too?”
“That’s—the first time I shifted was
when he found out. I was just a kid,
maybe nine or ten?”
She closed her mouth—her jaw had
dropped open. “I’m—how could anyone
do that? To your mother or you?”
She’d been stepping closer to him,
without even thinking about it. Almost
close enough to touch.
“But you’re not afraid,” he said.
She shook her head.
“And if there were children—I
know I’m getting ahead of myself, I’m
sorry, I just—”
“No,” she said. “I understand. I...I
don’t understand how anyone couldn’t
love their own child. Especially a child
—” A child like you, she thought, but
that sounded ridiculous. “Just for that?
For something special?”
“‘Special?’”
“You changed into a jaguar and
saved someone’s life! That’s—that’s
magical. I never thought I’d see anything
like that, not in person. But you—”
She didn’t know what to say, how
to reassure him.
But he seemed to have found his
reassurance. He stepped forward, just
half a step to close the distance between
them, and took her into his arms.
They were both wet and cold, but
his skin still felt warm to the touch. The
grime and the cold and the rain didn’t
matter. All that mattered were his strong
hands, his muscular chest pressed
against her breasts. All that mattered
was his kiss.
And oh, how he kissed.
It felt good, so good. He was so
strong, so sure of himself with his hands,
with the way he moved. He wrapped his
arms around her, strong muscle against
the soaked fabric of her blouse.
She stopped thinking. All she could
do was feel. Feel the passion in Paul’s
kiss and the strong hands roaming over
her body.
It didn’t matter that he was cold and
wet. It didn’t matter that he was a hero,
or a billionaire. All that mattered was
the two of them, man and woman,
tangled in one another’s arms.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said,
when they broke the kiss.
“I’m a mess,” she protested.
“I’m no better—” He pushed his
soaking hair back from his face. “Do you
—your shower?”
“Shower,” she gasped. “Yes.”
They stumbled to the bathroom
together, Abby pulling her blouse over
her head, Paul fumbling with his pants.
Everything was wet and cold and
miserable, and none of it mattered. His
hands were warm and sure on her body.
Her heart was thumping, and she
could feel an intense, pounding ache in
her clit. She wanted. God, she wanted.
“Shower,” he panted. “Can you—”
She started the water one-handed,
turned up the heat to what she thought
wouldn’t be too much of a shock. Paul
had already kicked off his pants. She
could see his dark, thick erection, rising
from his body. He had some fantastic
abs, too. Damn.
“You’re amazing,” he said. “So
beautiful.” He reached for her skirt,
taking the waistband in his fingers and
pulling her close. He kissed her again,
warm and wet.
Her skin was so damp and cold she
was shaky. But Paul held her steady. His
hands were so strong. She wanted to get
lost in him, in his touch.
She
didn’t
feel
nervous
or
uncomfortable with him, even though it
was their first time together. Paul didn’t
give her the chance. He was too happy to
be with her, too eager. He guided her
into the shower and the warm water
began caressing her body. His hands,
though, were a better caress, his hands
strong but gentle.
He stepped into the water after her
—thank goodness she’d put that big
showerhead in when she moved in—and
kissed her. The grime was pouring off
his body now. She looked at his muscles,
not bulging like a bodybuilder, but not
small, that was for sure.
He pulled her close, and then lifted
her up, to her shock, like she was little
more than a feather. He let her open her
legs, then braced her back on the shower
stall.
“Is this all right?” he asked.
All she could do was nod. Damn
right it was all right. It was the best thing
that had happened to her in years. She
felt just right. Perfect, like he said.
And it was perfect as he slid inside
her, hard and urgent. He only needed one
strong hand to hold her up, and he used
the other to caress her breasts, teasing
first one nipple, then the other with his
fingertips.
She was shaking, and her heart was
pounding. She could feel the throbbing
all through her body, but it was strongest
in her swollen clit. A thousand tiny
raindrops hit her as Paul thrust into her,
and she felt like she was getting wetter
and more sensitized every second. It felt
like electricity was coursing through
every inch of her body, and there was no
way to control it. Something bigger than
her had taken control of her, had maybe
taken control of them both.
She’d never been with a man like
him. He was so strong, so confident. So
damn good at what he was doing.
He stopped teasing her breasts and
shifted his hand to her clit instead, and
she bit back a cry. His touch triggered a
rocket fire inside her, and her hips
bucked against Paul.
She couldn’t stop herself from
moving, control herself at all.
All she could do was lose herself
to Paul’s touch.
For his part, Paul didn’t seem like
he was in much more control. His eyes
were pinned to her, like he couldn’t look
away. His mouth moved, but no words
were coming out.
But through it all, his hands, his
touch, stayed steady. The little circles he
was rubbing on her oversensitized clit
grew harder, steadier, and Abby bit back
a scream.
The heat was building inside her,
higher and higher, her heart beating
faster and faster.
She closed her eyes; keeping them
open was too much, too overwhelming.
Even so, she could hardly hang on. She
tipped her head back, letting the water
splash over her face.
Orgasm took her, pushed her over
the edge, her body moving without any
control, her hips shaking.
She felt him coming too, going over
the edge, and he pressed his lips to hers,
kissing her madly again and again.
10
Abby sighed again, and Paul held
her closer. What the hell had he just
done?
They were both still in the spray,
warm, pressed together, skin on skin. He
kissed the side of her cheek.
“I’m—I’m on the pill,” she blurted
out, and then burst out laughing. “Oh,
God.” She put her hand over her face. “I
—that’s romantic, huh?”
“No, it’s—I’m tested, I—we’re
fine.” He shook his head. “I—I can’t
quite believe this just happened,
honestly.”
“Me...me neither.”
He pulled her into his arms,
whispering into her ear. “I’m glad,
though.”
She reached over and turned the
shower off. “Are we clean now?
Close...close enough to clean?”
“I think so,” he said, and he was
laughing too. What a day. “I still want to
take you to dinner.”
“I guess I’ll say yes,” she said, and
they both started laughing again.
He looked around her bathroom. It
looked like her towels were big and
fluffy. He grabbed the biggest, fluffiest
one he could find and wrapped it around
Abby. “There,” he said. “That’s better. I
mean, we hopped into the shower to
warm up.”
“I got plenty warm,” she said. “I
don’t know about you....”
“Well, let’s keep you that way.” He
found a towel for himself and dried off.
“I have a washer and drier right
here,” she said. “I can get your clothes
clean.”
“That’d...that’d be great,” he said.
“I don’t think I have any clothes
that’ll fit you. Maybe a bathrobe?
Though I’m not sure I have one of those
that’ll fit you either….”
He shrugged. “I’m all right in a
towel, if you don’t mind.”
She looked him up and down.
“Um...yeah. I don’t think I mind.”
He kissed her cheek. He wanted to
put his hands all over her all over again,
but she was going to get cold, and he
really needed dry clothes at some point.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” she said. “I...I think
I’ll just put it all in one load, that’ll be
faster. You’re not really supposed to but
—”
“No,” he said. “I just want them
dry. I don’t think anything will shrink.
And if it does...I’m not sure I care.”
“I’ll check the labels. Anything that
says dry clean only I’ll just put on
delicate.”
“I owe you,” he said.
“Oh, you’ll get to pay me back,”
she said. “I have a few questions for
you. Actually, I have a lot of questions.”
He’d been waiting for that shoe to
drop. She was beautiful and sexy and
intelligent...and a reporter. Of course she
was going to have questions. Anyone
would. He just hoped she wouldn’t be
taking too many mental notes. He settled
down on her couch and looked around
her living room. She had framed
photographs on the wall; he guessed they
were hers, as they looked very similar to
the ones he’d seen in the cafe. Most of
the living room was black and white—
white walls, black couch—but there
were touches of color, and personality,
everywhere, from the red-and-gold
Persian rug to the soft pillows on the
couch.
The shades were pulled, which was
a relief. He hadn’t even thought about it
as they stumbled into the apartment.
“How long have you been here?” he
called.
“In town? Since college, I had my
internship here. But this apartment, about
six months. I was on the waitlist when
they opened up—it’s a converted
woolen mill, if you can believe it.”
“That makes sense.” It explained
the high ceilings in such an old building.
“Yeah, I don’t really feel like I’ve
moved in yet. I’ve got some of my stuff
here, but—” She emerged, wearing a t-
shirt and jeans and carrying a fluffy blue
bathrobe. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really
feel like home yet.”
“You got dressed,” he said. He felt
disappointed.
“Sorry,” she said, handing him the
bathrobe. “I thought I should get us
something to eat. Cooking naked’s kind
of dangerous.”
“What time is it?” He wasn’t
hungry. “You don’t have to cook for me.”
“It’s almost seven, and I don’t think
I’ve got anything I can whip up quick,”
she said.
He got up and wrapped the
bathrobe around himself. It didn’t fit
quite right, but it kept him covered, and
it was nice and soft. “Well, don’t do it
on my account. I’d be happy with frozen
pizza.”
“I don’t think I even have that,” she
said. She opened the freezer door and
stood there, her hand on her hip. He
wanted to walk up behind her and pull
her clothes off all over again. “I’m going
to have to do pasta with...canned sauce?
I think I have some canned sauce? I
normally do grocery shopping tonight,
but I didn’t exactly have the chance.”
Thunder boomed again outside the
window; the storm must have been
circling back in.
“Does anywhere here deliver?”
“There’s a pizza place,” she said.
“But they charge for delivery.”
“I can handle that,” he said. “It’s
not as nice as dinner out, but if you’re
hungry, I don’t mind staying in with
you.” He patted the couch cushion. “And
I’d rather spend time with you than
watch you cook.”
She looked back and forth between
him and the freezer.
“I’ll still take you to dinner—”
“I don’t care about that,” she said.
“I don’t want you to think—”
“I think you’re hungry and I think I
want to talk to you. Come on, let’s just
get some pizza.”
“All right,” she said, opening up a
kitchen drawer and pulling out a menu.
“What do you like for toppings?”
“I’m not that fussy,” he said. “Some
kind of meat, if you don’t mind.”
“Pepperoni?”
“That sounds great.”
“Wait—are you like a cat? Do you
have to eat meat?”
He laughed. “I don’t know. I’ve
never tried not eating meat, and I don’t
really know many other shifters. Mom
always ate meat.”
“Just pepperoni, or do you want
something else?”
“Surprise me,” he said.
“You don’t have any allergies? Or
anything you don’t like?”
“I’d tell you,” he said. “Do you
have—you must have more towels.
Could I dry my hair off?”
“Of course,” she said.
He could hear her ordering as he
went back into the bathroom. He looked
ridiculous in the fluffy blue towel, and
his hair was flopping in his face. He
toweled it off and did as much work as
he could with his fingers to get it in
order. Bad enough he looked like a
blueberry marshmallow, at least his hair
could be in order.
“Twenty minutes,” she said, when
he emerged. She was sitting on her
couch, just where he’d patted for her to
sit. “So I’ve got some time, if you don’t
mind more questions.”
“No,” he said. “I’d like to be
honest with you.” He hadn’t had a
chance to be honest with a woman in
years, and last time Karen hadn’t been
so kind or accepting.
“So you eat, just, normal human
food?”
“Yes,” he said. “I can eat when I’m
a cat, but I don’t, normally. It’s a
different feeling, being the cat. You
want...well, basically what cats eat, but
you’re still human, so it’s not really that
appealing.”
“Yeah,
that
sounds—”
She
frowned. “That sounds kind of gross.”
“It’s a lot better to eat as a human,”
he conceded. He sat next to her and held
out his arm. “Can I—”
She shifted her weight and snuggled
in close to him.
Perfect.
“What else would you like to
know?”
“I...there’s so much,” she said.
“Does it hurt, when you change?”
“No,” he said. “It feels...it feels just
as natural as stretching. Like you’re
shifting your body, but in a good way, in
a normal way. The first time, I didn’t
even realize that was what I was doing.”
“Were—were you alone?”
“Ah, no,” he said. “But...but my
mother was there. She helped me through
it.”
“But your dad didn’t—”
He didn’t want to talk about this
now. But...he’d already opened the door,
hadn’t he? And if he was going to be
honest with her, he might as well start.
There were...a lot of secrets. “He found
out a little later,” he said. “It’s not easy
to hide when you’re getting used to
shifting.” He pulled her closer. “Try not
stretching, especially when you’re
twelve years old.”
“That...sounds impossible.”
“He found out and he flipped out,”
he said. “Accused Mom of all kinds of
things, until she told him the truth, that
she could shift too.” Abby was warm.
That was nice. It was easier to talk about
this than he’d thought it was going to be.
Being near her made it easier.
“And he—he was angry?”
“He was beyond angry,” Paul said.
“I heard the shouting through the walls.
My little brother—he was younger. He
slept through most of it, though I
remember he woke up and I told him he
was having a nightmare.” He shook his
head. “And I just remember not caring
about Mom or Dad or any of it, just that
he believed me. Just that he’d go back to
sleep and not know about all of this
happening.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah,” he said. “And then, a
couple days after that, Mom told me we
had to go, and we left.”
“Just you and your mom?”
He nodded. He’d tried to ask Mom
why they’d left Aaron behind but she’d
never really given him an answer. “She
didn’t think Aaron could shift, but—” He
shook his head. “It never felt right to me,
leaving him behind.”
“She probably had a good reason.”
“We didn’t have much,” he said.
“We moved to the country and she
waited tables for a while, worked her
way up to manager at a Friendly’s. I
went to college on scholarship.”
“You said your mom was your first
investor,” she said. “Did she—”
“I was getting my MBA when plane
crashed...the insurance settlement was
my first investment. I don’t like to tell
the story like that. She...she would’ve
given me her last dime to get me started,
if she could have. So—”
“No,” she said. “I understand.
That’s...that’s kind of nice. It sounds like
what she would have wanted.”
“I hope so,” he said. “I think she
would’ve wanted me to find Aaron too,
and I still haven’t figured out how to do
that. What if he—” What if he rejects me
too?
She turned around in his arms and
held him tight. “He’d love you,” she
said. “I know it.”
“I—I hope you’re right,” he said.
“It’s been years and sometimes I just
want to call him. Hear his voice.”
“Is he—how old is he?”
“Three years younger than I am,” he
said. “Twenty-one.” He buried his face
in her curls, still wet from the shower. “I
keep thinking, maybe it’s time to call
him, but I’m afraid.”
He hadn’t told anyone this stuff for
years. Chris knew a lot of it but he’d
never let it all out at once, just told the
story. Told someone the truth, and the
whole truth.
And she wasn’t judging him. She
didn’t pity him.
She just cared.
11
Abby ended up paying for the pizza
in the end; they only took cash, and
Paul’s wallet was too soaked to fish any
bills out.
“I definitely owe you dinner after
this,” Paul said, taking a slice gratefully.
“Two dinners, I think.”
“Let’s not worry about that right
now.” She sat across from him at her
kitchen table. “I’m just glad we’ve got
something to eat.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I can’t tell
you how much this means to me.”
“It’s not that big a deal,” she said.
“A little pizza, the washer and the dryer
—”
“You’ve accepted me,” he said.
“Without—without even a question.”
“I had a lot of questions,” she
protested. “I still have a lot of
questions.”
“Not—not
those
kinds
of
questions.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“When I first realized—it was weird.
But it wasn’t exactly like I’d seen you
growling or snarling or anything. You
were...safe.”
He chuckled, but it was to hide
some inner bitterness. “No one’s ever
thought I was safe before.”
“I bet Michael does now,” she said.
“At least once he gets let out of the
hospital.” That reminded her. She picked
up her phone and checked. She had a
few texts, one from Tina about the
‘mystery man’ and one from Michael’s
mom. “They’re keeping him overnight,”
she said, sending her a text thanking her
for the information. “I should probably
be writing the article now.”
“Pizza first,” Paul said, tapping her
plate. “Everyone works better on a full
stomach. Remember I told you that
everyone has to take real lunch breaks at
Inti? It’s not just because I’m such a nice
guy.”
“You are a nice guy,” she said,
picking up her own slice of pizza and
taking a bite.
“I don’t know about ‘nice,’ he said.
“I try to be fair. And kind when I can
be.”
“That’s better than nice.”
He smiled at that, and there was no
bitterness this time.
They were finishing the pizza as the
washer buzzed, and she got up to put
Paul’s clothes in the dryer. The fabrics
were...really nice. Really expensive.
She’d just put them on the low
setting for now. At least then they could
tell if they would shrink. She could just
imagine handing Paul back a pair of
pants half the size of his body.
It was fun having him half-naked in
her kitchen, but it wouldn’t get him back
to his car, much less without the whole
town knowing about it.
That could lead to a lot of questions
neither of them wanted to answer.
He
came
up
behind
her.
“Everything all right?”
“I don’t want to shrink anything.
You might have to wait it out a while.”
“I’ll stay as long as I have to,” he
said, slipping an arm around her. “I
don’t have to be anywhere until the
morning, and I can postpone my first
business meeting if I have to.”
“All right,” she said.
“Hmm.” He pulled her closer. “I
wonder what we should do while we’re
waiting for my clothes to dry?”
“We could watch a movie,” she
teased.
“We could,” he said, putting a hand
in her hair. “I like movies.”
“You have one of those big theaters
at home? With the surround sound?”
“No,” he conceded. “But I do have
a Blu-Ray player.”
“Even I have a Blu-Ray player,”
she said. She’d gotten it refurbished,
sure, but it was still a Blu-Ray player.
“Do you like surround sound? I
could get surround sound.”
“I...I don’t think I need it,” she said.
“What do you think you need?”
“I don’t know,” she said, even as
her body started burning. “You have any
ideas?”
“I think I do,” he said. “I was just
thinking I’d like to see that bedroom of
yours.”
“I’d love to show it to you,” she
said.
He lifted her up, scooping her into
his arms like a bride he was about to
carry over the threshold. “Just tell me
which way to go.”
She pointed.
He carried her past the bathroom
and into the bedroom. “Ah,” he said. “A
big bed. I do love the right-sized woman
with a jaguar-sized bed.”
Abby’s face heated up. She was
just glad she’d remembered to make the
bed.
He gently placed her on top of the
quilt. “Now,” he said. “It doesn’t take
much to get me naked, but you—”
She pulled her t-shirt over her head
as he went to work on her jeans,
unbuttoning them and sliding them down
her hips as she wiggled them to try to get
them off faster. He kissed his way down
her stomach, then buried his face
between her legs.
Oh, God—
He was just as good with his mouth
down there as he was with a kiss.
His hands were on her thighs, firm
and assured, spreading them apart as he
dipped his head further down. Oh, he
was good at this. So good. Her whole
body was shaking again, like she hadn’t
even come earlier, like she’d been
without sex for months, years.
His tongue flicked gently against
her clit and she had to bite back a
scream.
Every touch sent the fire burning
higher, more intensely. The heat between
her legs was becoming unbearable. How
was he doing this to her? Was it the cat,
still hidden deep inside him?
She closed her eyes and let her
body take the sensations, all of them,
rolling over her like a thousand tiny
waves.
The heat and pressure built and
built, higher and higher, pushing her into
—
Ooooh. Oh, yes, yes—
She came, her body shaking
uncontrollably, white lights flashing in
her vision. This was—
What a man, she thought to herself.
What a man.
“Abby,”
he
said,
sounding
breathless and a little out of control
himself. He shifted his weight, moving
sleek and fast, and he was on her, in her,
before she could even catch her breath.
He felt big and hot inside her. He thrust
inside her, hard, rocking her body. The
air felt hot and cool against her skin as
he moved.
It was all she could do to hold on.
He came inside her, hard, his hips
bucking, and even though she couldn’t
come again, it was like she could feel
Paul’s pleasure. That was good. So
good.
He rolled off her, taking her body
with him, pulling her on top of him. It
felt good, so good. Skin on skin. “Oh,”
he said. “I’m never going to get tired of
making love to you.”
Never?
Never
seemed
a
little...optimistic. “We just met,” she
protested, gently.
“Just consider me a confident man,”
Paul said. He pulled her face down to
his and kissed her.
They did end up watching an old
movie on TV, both of them on the couch,
Paul’s arm tight around her waist. It felt
more like being with an old friend,
maybe an old lover—she’d never had a
boyfriend long enough to have an ‘old
lover,’ but she thought she could guess at
the feeling.
She’d never felt so comfortable
with anyone before, so warm and safe.
“Oh, Bringing Up Baby’s next,” he
said. “I love that movie.”
“Isn’t that the one with a leopard?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Apparently Cary
Grant was terrified of it, and Katherine
Hepburn treated it like her best friend.”
“Is it weird? Seeing, like, a big cat
in a movie, or a zoo?”
“Not really,” he said. “Not much
different than seeing a monkey at the zoo.
We have...shifters are different. When
you’re a jaguar, you’ve got the cat’s
senses and appetites, but your mind’s
still human. Totally human.”
“You—you’re not the only one you
know,” she said.
He shook his head. “No, I’ve been
lucky. I’ve found friends over the years.”
He squeezed her waist. “They’re pretty
private about it, like me. But...they’ll
trust you, the same way I do.”
“I don’t understand—I mean, I’m
glad, but I don’t understand how you can
just trust me like this.”
“I’m lucky,” he said. “Male
shifters, at least the cats—we see our
mate, and we know. No questions, no
doubts. Mom said it was different for
women, they had to guess just like
humans do.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Mom thought it was
maybe something way back in our
history, from the cat side of things. Like,
male lions will kill the alpha males and
take over the pride. Can you imagine
what it’d be like? Losing the guy you
knew, for sure, was your mate, and
having to be with the man who killed
him? But—but I don’t know. I wasn’t
even sure it happened like that, until—”
He stopped, almost swallowing the end
of the sentence.
“...until you saw me?”
“Yeah,” he said, very softly.
“Sensed you. I’m sorry—this sounds so
creepy.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Thank you.
Thank you for telling me. It means a lot.”
“I...I have to be honest with you,”
he confessed. “And I want to, anyway.”
“Even to a reporter?” she teased,
bumping his foot with her own.
“Yes,” he said. “Because it’s you.”
He put his hand on hers. “So, Bringing
Up Baby?”
“Sure.”
Abby got up and checked Paul’s
clothes a few times, letting them dry
slowly so hopefully they wouldn’t
shrink. They’d watched most of the
movie by the time it was done. It was a
good movie. They both laughed a lot.
It was getting late by the time it
finished. “Your things should be dry,”
she said. “Or—you can stay if you
want.”
“You’re sure?” He stood up, putting
a hand on her waist. “I don’t want to
pressure you.”
“No,” she said. “It’s...it’s all right.”
He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I
want it to be more than ‘all right,” he
said. “Can you come to dinner with me
tomorrow? Somewhere nice.”
“Yes,” she said. “I mean, as long as
you like the article—”
He laughed and pulled her closer
for another kiss. “I’ll love it. I know it.”
His clothes were dry enough to
wear, so she drove him over to his car.
He gave her one more long, passionate
kiss before he disappeared.
When she got back home, she
checked her phone again.
She had another text from Tina:
How did it go?!
She also had two texts from Sam,
who was the typesetter at Salem Beach
Now. Both of them were just two words:
Call me.
Well, it was close to eleven now,
and Sam was one of the old guard. She
probably went to bed at nine. She’d call
her at home in the morning. Sam always
took the day off after putting the issue to
bed.
She did text Abby back. He’s super
cute. Super nice. Dinner tomorrow.
Yay!!! Does he have a brother?
Abby’s eyes went wide. I don’t
know, she said, which was a little bit a
lie, but really just the easiest way of
saying I don’t know if his brother will
ever speak to him again or not.
Find out. We could double date. ;-)
Abby smiled. OK.
By then she might have figured out
what to tell Tina about Paul’s brother.
12
“We have a problem,” Chris
announced, tossing a copy of Salem
Beach Now on Paul’s desk. “Two
problems, technically, but I think they
share the same name.”
The headline, in big black letters,
read Who Is the Mystery Jaguar?
Paul sighed. “Well, I’d expected
that.”
“Oh,” Chris said. “We haven’t even
gotten started. Your profile’s below the
fold, and you’ll never guess whose
byline’s on it.”
Paul flipped the paper over. “It’s
not Abby?”
“My guess is it’s mostly Abby’s
work, but it’s got Laura Moore’s byline.
And her greasy fingers all over it.” Chris
leaned over Paul’s desk and tapped a
paragraph.
More than capable, Mr. Paul
Larson’s smooth manner and joie de
vivre—”Joie de vivre? I don’t have any
joie de vivre. She wasn’t around me
long enough to see any joie de anything
anyway.”
“And then, like two paragraphs
later, the article snaps into a completely
different voice, who knows what they’re
actually talking about. That’s Abby. You
can tell from reading her other articles.”
“What about the jaguar article?”
Chris sighed. “That isn’t great
either. She does a lot of speculating. Had
to be someone from out of town, male—
which is bullshit, but she’s right, so
strike two. It’s like watching someone
flail around throwing wild punches. One
of them’s going to hit.”
“That’s still not much. I can’t be the
only person who came into that place
from out of town yesterday.”
“I still don’t like it,” Chris said.
“And I like this shitty profile even less.
And putting both of those things together
—” He stood up and punched a fist into
his palm. “Ugh. I hate her.”
“I already knew why but this kind
of underlines it.” The article about Inti
was infuriating—one or two paragraphs
of solid reporting and then a paragraph
of ill-written mush. But the jaguar story
could do a lot more damage. At least it
was mostly garbage, but he found
himself wishing no one had gotten a
photo. Had it been Abby? She probably
hadn’t realized he was a jaguar at first.
There was no photo credit, which didn’t
help.
He’d have to ask Abby.
Had she seen this? Did she know
what had happened? She’d be upset. A
profile—a good profile—of Paul and
Inti would’ve made her look good. Made
everyone look good. Instead, the paper
looked like a badly edited hack sheet,
and Paul looked like an idiot for giving
them the exclusive interview.
It didn’t matter that much to Paul,
not really, but it was annoying. And he
was angry on Abby’s behalf.
He checked his phone. No texts
from Abby. He decided to send one. Are
you okay?
A text came back ten minutes later,
when Chris had gone out to his desk to
sulk. I’m so sorry.
You don’t have anything to
apologize for.
I don’t know what to do.
I can call your editor.
No, don’t do that.
He pressed the Call button on his
phone.
Abby picked up on the first ring.
“Paul?”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need you to fix my
problems for me, for one thing. For
another thing, he wouldn’t listen to you
anyway. He doesn’t listen to anyone but
Laura any more.”
“Is he sleeping with her?”
Abby sounded scandalized. “No!
He’s just—snowed, I guess.”
“Look, I want—it’s my business,
too. It’s a terrible article.”
“I know it’s a terrible article,”
Abby said. “And if there’s any way I
could make it up to you—”
“It’s not about that,” he said. “I
don’t blame you. But...I’ve got an
interest in having a better article too.
You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” she said. “But—I
mean, you’ve dealt with a lot of
corporate bullshit. You’ll be fine. It’s not
a bad article from your perspective. You
look...you look like you care about
charitable causes like my sad little
weekly.” He heard her sigh. “At least it
doesn’t have my name on it, I guess.
That’s the good side of her wanting all
the credit.”
He wanted to take her in his arms
and pull her close. He couldn’t think of
anything he could say to her to console
her. “Was that your photo on the front
page?”
“Of the jaguar? No. I didn’t realize
they’d stop the presses for the story
and…I don’t know if I would have
passed it on, anyway.”
“Look, I...I’d still really like to see
you tonight. Would that be all right?”
“Yeah,” she said. “It might cheer
me up, right?”
“I’ll do my best,” he said. “Do you
want to go to the tavern, or would it be
better to be out of town? There are some
nice places in the city.”
“That’d be nice,” she said. “Thank
you.”
“Abby,” he said. “Honestly, if
there’s anything I can do—”
“I need to take care of this myself,”
she said. “I don’t know. Maybe I need to
look for another job. But—” She sighed
again. “I don’t know.”
“Let me take your mind off it, at
least. What time should I pick you up?”
“I don’t know—six, maybe? I
volunteer at the library this afternoon,
we normally have the day off after we
put the paper to bed unless we’ve got
something to cover. That’ll give me time
to get changed.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “Pick you
up at your place?”
“Sure,” she said. She sounded a
little cheered up. “I can’t wait.”
“Me neither,” he said.
He was halfway through reading
Dominic’s projections for the second
quarter when Chris came back into his
office. “Check your email.”
“Sure?” He wiggled the mouse to
wake up his laptop. “What’s going on?”
“A little chatter on the lines,” he
said. “Thanks to your appearance
yesterday. Someone’s looking for you.”
“My father knows where I am,”
Paul said, coldly.
“I know,” Chris said. “It’s not him.
It’s your brother.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Has to be,” Chris said. “I did
some digging. He’s very curious about
what anyone knows about this jaguar, if
anyone’s seen him before.”
Paul shook his head. “He didn’t
know. I know he didn’t. We left—we left
when he was just a kid.” He swallowed.
He thought about Aaron all the time, but
he’d wondered for years if Aaron ever
thought of them, if he forgave them for
leaving.
He and Mom had talked about it,
years later. If they’d done the right thing,
if they should have brought Aaron with
them. But Dad wouldn’t have stopped
looking for them—ever—if they’d had
Aaron. Dad would’ve been convinced
that Aaron wouldn’t be a shifter—and he
probably wasn’t—but—
What if they’d done the wrong
thing?
“I think he wants to find you,” Chris
said. “It sure looks that way.”
“I don’t know,” Paul said. “How
would I even start?”
“You could always blame your
mom,” Chris said.
“Very funny.”
“Hey, they’re the ones who left us.”
Chris smiled, a little sadly. “I blame
stuff on being an orphan all the time.”
“I just figured you blamed your bird
brain.”
“Ha, ha, you’re a riot,” he said.
“He’s looking for you. You should reach
out to him.”
“Let me deal with the rest of my
problems first?”
Chris sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But
the next time you tell me how much you
miss your brother, you remember this.”
He got out of the chair and went back to
his desk, leaving Paul alone in the
office.
Paul got up and looked out the
window at the city.
What was he still doing here? He
wanted to be outdoors.
He’d done well in the corporate
world. Mom had always said for a
jaguar, getting money was no trouble—
that it would gravitate to him—and that
had certainly been true. And there were
plenty of things he liked about investing.
He liked the competitiveness. He liked
the people he worked with and the
amount he could siphon off quietly to
charity.
But he was tired of the city.
Spending more time in Salem
Beach...it was time. Past time. For
himself and for the company. And having
Abby out there too, that would just make
it better.
As long as she kept her job. As
long as Salem Beach Now stayed
around. If they’d hoped to get a boost
from that exclusive interview with
almost no content, they didn’t get what
they’d bargained for. A little poking
around the internet had revealed that
#JoieDeInti was trending. And not in a
good way.
That Laura woman...what was
wrong with her? The only consolation
was that she’d sealed her own fate. Any
further requests for interviews from her
would be denied with lightning speed,
and Chris would make sure that no PAs
in Boston would even return her phone
calls. Chris’s powers of spite were
impressive even when it didn’t come to
someone who had exploited his mother’s
death and messed with his best friend
and his company.
Hell, Paul would be lying to
himself if he didn’t admit he was angry
with her too. Bad enough she’d lied to
Chris back then. Now she’d lied to the
woman he loved. His mate.
Back in the old days, anyone who
hurt the jaguar’s mate—
But that was the old days. Hell, he
was more English than Quechua, no
matter what his instincts said. And he
was in New England now, hiding half of
who he was to all but his closest friends
and other shifters.
If Mom had been here—
If Mom was here, she’d tell me to
calm down and think, he realized. She
wouldn’t let me sulk like this. She’d tell
me that I could complain all I wanted
to but a real leader would make a plan.
So that’s what I’ve got to do.
13
This isn’t running away, Abby told
herself as she drove out to Whitefin
Lake. This is just taking a break.
She’d sent Paul a text asking for a
raincheck.
She just needed a night to herself. A
little time to get her mind clear.
Not running away.
Totally not running away.
The lake was nice, far enough
inland that the water was clear, not
brackish. Usually she went swimming,
but she didn’t want to fuss with taking a
suit and a towel. She just wanted out,
and the sooner the better. She’d turned
off her phone before she even got in the
car.
She pulled in at the boat landing,
took her car key off the hook and slipped
it in her pocket before locking the door.
She decided to walk the lakeside
trail. It wasn’t that challenging, but it
would keep her mind busy enough, and a
lot of times she saw birds or other
wildlife.
Sunlight.
Fresh air.
Animals that weren’t from the
South American jungle.
No South Beach Times and no
Laura Moore.
Exactly what she needed.
The lakeside trail didn’t go around
the whole lake, only about half of it, but
that took a good half hour if you were
just walking for fun. It was a nice day,
sunny after yesterday’s downpour, and
the rain had cooled things off a lot.
She managed to focus on that for the
first half or so of the walk.
Then
everything
else
started
creeping in.
Laura.
Why was she so...mean? It was bad
enough she insisted on credit for things
she didn’t deserve, on all the best
stories. This had been Abby’s. They’d
asked for Abby. And she’d still stuck her
byline on it.
And changed Abby’s words! Her
own words!
It just wasn’t fair.
Sam had tried to warn her, but
she’d been—
Damn it, now she was thinking
about Paul too. He’d trusted her and
she’d let him down. She should have
been more careful. She shouldn’t have
given Laura a second alone with her
copy, much less run off to make out with
a billionaire.
No matter how great he was.
There was a rock on the trail, flat
and round. Perfect skipping rock. She
picked it up and aimed, trying to skim it
across the lake. Instead, the damn thing
dropped into the water like—well, like
a rock.
That just figured.
Well, no way she’d see any ducks
or loons now, she’d probably scared
them all off.
It was still a nice day. A nice view.
So nice she wanted to scream.
You’re being foolish, she told
herself. You could be out with Paul
right now. Having a good time. Instead
you’re out here sulking.
She wanted to have a good time
with Paul, though. She didn’t want him
to have to cheer her up on their first real
date, or make apologies for the mess at
the paper. A night to herself would let
her calm down, relax a little. She liked
Paul. A lot. She didn’t want him to have
to deal with her crappy mood this early
in their....
Relationship?
Well, whatever it was.
She’d figured she’d startled any
animal off, but there was something in
the underbrush just ahead of her. It
looked like it might be struggling. A
bird?
She glimpsed feathers as she got
closer. It looked like it might be a duck,
or a Canadian goose. It had been hurt, or
caught on something, maybe fishing line.
It couldn’t fly, and it was getting
increasingly distressed, though it stayed
unusually silent.
And then she saw another, second
motion. Something was stalking the bird,
getting closer and closer. She froze. Part
of her wanted to help the bird, but she
also knew better than to get in the way of
a coyote. They wouldn’t attack humans
but if they were already headed to kill—
The animal caught her eye—
A jaguar.
“Paul?” Abby blurted out, then
realized that no, it wasn’t. The animal
didn’t look quite the same; the markings
were slightly different.
Whatever the animal was, shifter or
jaguar, it wasn’t Paul.
Shit. She was alone in the woods
with a strange jaguar. She couldn’t even
be sure the animal was a shifter. Maybe
it had escaped from someone’s personal
zoo or something.
She tried to remember what she
knew about wild cats. Playing dead
didn’t work, did it? No, they’d just play
with you like a house cat would.
Instinct overrode anything else, and
she turned and ran like hell for her car.
She’d locked the door, but she
managed to have her key in her hand.
She didn’t bother looking behind her, she
just leapt into the seat, started the engine,
and went.
What the hell had just happened?
Had she—
She’d said Paul’s name. If anyone
was looking to find out who the mystery
shifter was, she’d just told them. Damn
it. She’d have to tell him.
This was the worst day ever.
Chris picked up Paul’s office
phone. “Abby? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I just...I just
needed some fresh air. Is Paul in?”
“He left about a half hour ago, do
you need him?”
“I...I’ll call his cell,” she said.
“He’s not angry,” Chris said. “He’s
worried about you.”
“He doesn’t need to be.” I can take
care of myself.
“I’ve got some ideas, if you’re
looking for the best way to take
revenge.”
“She—what did she do to you?”
His grudge had seemed personal.
Intimate.
“I...when my mother died she—she
turned it into an exclusive. That’s the
best way to put it.”
“The
plane
crash,”
she
remembered.
“The plane crash.” He sighed. “I
thought I was giving her my revenge with
that story, and instead she turned
everything against you. I’m really the
one who needs to be apologizing.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” she
said. “This is...just how she works. You
only got it once, but I’ve worked with
her for years. She’s a master at this stuff,
she really is.” And Abby was starting to
feel like she was too tired to play her
stupid games. There were other towns,
other papers. Sure, she loved her work,
and she’d miss her friends—especially
Tina—but maybe it wasn’t worth trying
to swim upstream any more. Whatever
she did, Laura came out on top. The
better job, the better headlines, all of it.
“I’m not sure Paul quite gave you
the full picture,” Chris said. “See, you
seem like a lovely woman. Smart, kind,
all those good things. Me, I’m a
vindictive, evil son of a bitch. I’ll find
it. Whatever her weakness is, I’ll find it.
And I’ll crush her.”
His tone was light, but she believed
him. “Well...if I can help, let me know.”
“Oh, I will,” Chris said, warmly.
A light went on in the back of her
mind. “Look, I—while we’re talking
about that. All that stuff on the USB
drive, the stuff about the waste disposal
—did she use any of that in the article?”
His laugh was bitter. “Of course
she didn’t. Do you want it? I’ll give it
all to you if you promise to shop it to
another publication. You don’t have,
like, a non-compete or anything, do
you?”
“No,” she said. The light was
burning bright now. “I can freelance.
You said a good reporter could get a
great article out of it—”
“You could,” he said. “I’ve read
your other stuff. I’ll email it all to—
wait, do I have your personal email?”
“You
can
send
it
to
my
TransferBox,” she said, and gave him
her username. “Thank you.”
“No, Ms. Abby,” he said. “Thank
you. You’ll be Phase One of my revenge
campaign, and I couldn’t be more
grateful.”
“Well, I’d—I’d better call Paul,”
she said. “I’ll look forward to getting
that stuff.”
“You’ll have it within the hour,” he
promised. “Have a good night.”
Well, time to bite the bullet, she
thought, and sent a text to Paul. When
you have a second, can we talk?
The phone rang in her hand almost
immediately. “Abby,” he said. “You
didn’t change your mind about dinner,
did you?”
“It’s—I might have told someone
who you were. That you were—you
know. Can you talk?”
“Yes, of course—what—what do
you mean?”
She explained what she’d seen.
What she’d said. “I just—I blurted it
out,” she said. “I didn’t even think—”
“Well,” he said. “I can’t really
blame you. Two jaguars in two days. I
might’ve done the same thing.”
“Really?”
“Well, um,” he said, “if I wasn’t a
jaguar? We can...tell, pretty quickly. But
I totally called a CEO the wrong name
last week, if it’s any consolation.”
“Are you going to be safe?”
“Well,” he said, his voice even and
serious, “Whoever it was would
presumably have as much to lose as I
would, and you only said my first name.
I won’t say I’m totally unconcerned, but
it’s not like you handed some guy on the
street my name and address and said I
was a shifter.”
“I guess not,” she said. “But I’m
still—I can’t believe I did it.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” he said.
“I’m glad you told me. Still taking a
raincheck on dinner? I still haven’t
eaten, if you’re up to it.”
“I’ll be better company tomorrow,”
she said. “If that’s okay.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” he said. His
voice was so warm she felt her own
body warming.
“Well...good,” she said. “Same
time would be all right, if that works for
you.”
“That sounds perfect. Should I
come pick you up? At your apartment?”
“Sure,” she stammered. “That’d be
great. I’ve got a story to work on tonight
anyway.” And I need to figure out who
to sell it to.
14
“So she didn’t describe the jaguar
at all,” Chris said.
Paul shrugged. “She said it was a
jaguar, and she realized it wasn’t me
right away. Then she got out of there.
Can’t say I blame her. I wouldn’t want to
stick around for follow-up questions
after that.” He smiled at Chris. “Not
everyone can do what you do.”
“Well, we all know that,” Chris
said with a grin. “More seriously,
there’s not much I can do. Nothing’s
come up on my Google alerts aside from
the stuff about the rescue. I’ll keep
checking the blogs that don’t show up on
Google, but...there just isn’t much, and I
wouldn’t expect there to be. No one’s
going to start bragging about seeing
another shifter, even if they do think it’s
you. I’ll let you know if there’s a spike
in traffic on the website or your social
media.”
“It won’t be from that Salem Beach
Now article.”
Chris snorted. “You can say that
again.”
“I should go out there,” Paul said.
“See if I can pick up any scents. At least
I’d know better what I was dealing
with.”
“You shouldn’t go alone.”
“Oh, I was planning on taking you
with me.” He gestured upward. “I’ll
need that eye in the sky.”
“We have a meeting in half an hour
about the Nygard initiative.”
“After that, then,” he said. “I don’t
want the scent to fade too much.”
“No,” Chris said. “But if you want
people to look at you funny, running off
into the woods for no reason...that’ll do
it.”
“We’ll just leave early,” he said.
“We’ve done that before.”
“And we’ll do it again,” Chris said,
going back out of Paul’s office. He
paused at the door. “Do you think your
father—do you think you’ll have any
problems with him?”
“He’ll see the article,” Paul said.
“But I don’t think he’s going to do
anything about it, if that’s what you’re
asking.” Mom had said that his father
had made his opinions on shifters very,
very clear. Paul doubted anything had
happened to change his mind. Maybe he
missed his elder son, but if he did, he’d
done nothing to reach out, or even
indicate that he’d had an elder son.
Father had written Paul out of his life,
and Paul doubted either headline in
Salem Beach Now would change his
mind.
“And your brother?”
“I don’t even know if Aaron
remembers me,” Paul said. Aaron was
five years younger. Who knew what he’d
remember? He’d probably remember his
mother and brother abandoning him.
We should have brought him with
us, Paul thought, not for the first time.
Mom had wanted to keep both her sons
safe, and she’d thought splitting them up
was the best way to do that. If she’d
taken Aaron, Father would have tried to
find them. Probably pulled out all the
stops, maybe even exposing them both as
shifters.
“We disappeared so we could be
free,” Mom had said, the only time
they’d really talked about it. “So you
could be safe. And I could—he realized,
when he knew you could change, that I
could, too. He knew you were his son—
at least he never doubted that.”
It had always seemed like cold
comfort to Paul.
It had made Paul cynical, more
cynical than he’d realized at first. He
didn’t believe any of the stories his
mother had told him about shifters
finding their mates. He didn’t even
believe her hopes that she could find
love again. He’d hated every man she’d
gone on a date with. Probably screwed
more than one relationship up for her,
he’d understood years later.
But that had all been before Abby.
There was something else he felt
when he talked to Abby, a passion he felt
down, deep into his bones. It wasn’t just
that she was beautiful, curvy, funny. It
wasn’t just that she was smart and
capable. There was something inside her
that drew him like a magnet.
That was the kind of woman you
could believe in. That you could imagine
spending the rest of your life with.
That he wanted to spend his life
with.
He supposed it would be premature
to propose on their first real date.
Maybe they could walk by a jewelry
store and see what she liked for rings—
He had a meeting in half an hour.
He should really be preparing for that.
He buzzed Chris. “Are we ready for that
Nygard meeting?”
Chris
sounded
amused.
“Daydreaming in your office again?”
“Just...are we ready? What do I
need to know?”
“Come out here and I’ll brief you,”
Chris said. “I’m still fixing the agenda.”
The Nygard meeting was tedious,
but it went quickly, and he drove Chris
out to the park. “So you want me to be
eyes up?” Chris said. “Is there anywhere
there we could change?”
“I’m not sure,” Paul said. “Port-a-
potties, maybe. I’m just hoping it’ll be as
quiet as Abby says it is.” His sense of
smell wasn’t really much different than a
human’s when he was in human form. If
he couldn’t change, there wouldn’t be
much value in even going out there.
There was no one else at the park,
but no port-a-potties, either. They shed
their clothes in the back of the car and
left the windows open. Chris went out
first, his wings skimming the edges of
the windows.
Paul could tell as soon as he
changed that the other cat was long gone.
But still, going out on the path would let
him have a better picture. He could
easily smell Abby’s rich, lovely scent,
and he used that as his guideline.
One his paws began tracing Abby’s
steps, he let his nose look for the
panther. He found its scent trace easily
enough, and he knew immediately the
animal had been a fellow shifter, not a
runaway from a private home or a zoo.
The jaguar was a male, and an adult,
though Paul suspected he wasn’t very
old—the scent he could pick up had
none of the telltale signs of age.
Chris soared overhead, riding the
wind currents. It wasn’t often they got
out together like this. They spent so
much of their time at the office.
Here was where Abby and the
jaguar had met—almost running into
each other, really, and there’d been a
terrified duck in the mix, too. Both of
them had turned back in opposite
directions—that was a good sign, Paul
thought, that the shifter hadn’t wanted to
hurt or scare Abby. Now he just wanted
to try to figure out who the shifter was
and what they’d wanted in the first
place.
The smell was a little familiar, but
nothing Paul could place. There were the
usual smells of modern life—automobile
exhaust, metal, fabric and what smelled
like fast food. He started following the
animal’s path, which followed the
lakeside trail. Whoever the shifter had
been, he’d been careful. He hadn’t scent
marked at all, not even rubbed his sides
against a rock on the trail. Was he hoping
to run into Abby? Or just hoping not to
be noticed?
The scent trail ran out at the edge of
the water, where the jaguar had slipped
in. Had he emerged in jaguar form or
human? Paul decided that he’d better
cover as much of the lakeshore as he
could. There could be more hints, more
scent, something he’d be able to
recognize.
Shifters
needed
to
stick
together...but only if they could trust one
another. He’d need to know a lot more
about this stranger first.
Maybe Chris had seen something in
the air.
When he’d made the full trip
around the public areas of the lake, with
no further scent of jaguar, he slunk back
to his car, jumping through the window.
No sign of Chris yet, which either meant
he’d seen something, or he just didn’t
want both of them vulnerable at the same
time.
Paul
pulled
his
pants
and
underwear back on. He should have
asked Abby to meet them there. Not only
would they have gotten her memories, he
would’ve had the chance to see her
again.
Maybe pull her close. Lose his
senses in her hair, her scent.
His reverie was interrupted by
Chris, diving in through the window.
“People coming,” he panted. “Drive.”
“Um, okay,” he said, and jumped
into the front seat. He started the car.
“Can we just pull out here?”
“Yeah,” Chris said. He was
crouched down in the back. “Just go, I’ll
get my jeans on.”
Paul grinned in spite of himself.
“We get caught, we’ll be dealing with a
whole different scandal.”
“Does she know about me?”
“Of course not,” he said, pulling
out of the parking lot just as a black
sedan with Michigan plates pulled in.
“That’s your secret to tell.”
“She’s your mate, we can trust her.”
“Besides, she might not believe
me.”
“The big animals get all the press,”
Chris said, popping up in the back seat
of the car and zipping up his jeans.
“We’re just as tough as you guys.”
“Of course you are,” Paul said, and
he really didn’t mean it to sound as
condescending as it actually sounded.
But in his defense, Chris in his shifted
form wasn’t much more than a mouthful
to a jaguar. A pointy mouthful with a lot
of attitude, sure, but—
“One
of
these
days,”
Chris
muttered, “I’m going to divebomb your
head, and then where will you be?”
Paul smirked. “Annoyed.”
“Big talk,” Chris said. “Big talk.”
“What did you think of the car?”
“Looked like tourists,” he said.
“It’s a rental, I don’t know if you
realized.”
Jaguars might be more powerful,
but it was hard to beat the sharp eyes of
a hawk. “How could you even tell?”
“Trade secret.” He winked. “They
had a bunch of stuff in the back, looked
like suitcases. I don’t think they’re your
panther, though I couldn’t say for sure. I
can swing back and check if you want to
stop in half a mile or so.”
“They might spot you.”
“I look enough like the local birds,
no one’s going to notice. If they do, well,
we’ll know what we’re dealing with,
right?”
“All right,” he said. “But be
careful.”
“Always,” Chris said.
He turned the radio on after Chris
left. It was nice to have a little time to
himself to think about all that had
happened. He’d found his mate, and
there was the chance there was another
jaguar shifter out there. He hadn’t really
had any others to talk to since Mom
died. He and Chris had shifter friends
who understood to some extent, and
Chris’s family was great, but none of
them were cats, and it wasn’t quite the
same.
There was a brief mention of the
company in business news, but it was
about the possibility of it going public,
nothing to do with the Salem Beach Now
profile.
The business wasn’t going public
any time soon—probably ever—but Paul
supposed the speculation kept Inti in the
headlines.
Keeping
the
business
successful had been his primary focus—
honestly, his only focus—for so long.
That would have to change. He needed
to make time for his friends. A wife.
Chris had told him over and over again
to remember there was more to life than
Inti, but he’d wanted to prove his worth.
To his father, to himself. And what kind
of partner would he be if he could only
bring a struggling business to the
marriage? Mom had been incredibly
savvy, and she’d worn her own gold
with her wedding gown. Paul had
inherited that pride.
He tapped his fingers on the
steering wheel. Waiting was boring.
He’d rather be out, being active, doing
something.
He was staring out the window,
looking for Chris, when he felt it. Fear.
Pure, uncut fear, worse than when he’d
felt years ago when he’d first learned
Mom’s plane had dropped off radar.
Something was wrong.
It was Abby. His mate. She was
scared. In danger?
Chris was still wheeling around
above. They’d worked out a signal years
ago, but he still didn’t like leaving his
friend alone.
The panic crept along his spine
again. Go. Take care of her. Now.
He
reached
into
the
glove
compartment and found the bright green-
and-yellow ribbon they’d chosen years
ago. He pulled it out and threw it out the
driver’s side window, letting it unspool
as it flew.
Chris would see the color and
know Paul would come back for him.
Sharp hawk’s eyes counted for a lot.
Paul started the car and headed for
Abby’s apartment.
15
To Abby’s relief, the article was an
easy sell. There was still a lot of
mystery around Inti and a peek inside an
innovative recycling system would make
a great feature. The Boston Common
wanted to run a full feature in the Sunday
edition; all she’d need to do was stop by
and take a few more pictures of her own.
Best of all, the money they offered was
great. Maybe she could buy that new
purse she’d had her eye on at the shop
across the street from the office.
She managed to channel all her
frustration from the day into writing the
article, though at first it wasn’t easy to
focus. She couldn’t stop thinking about
that jaguar out at the lake. Would Paul be
all right?
He’d said he was going out there,
and he should be fine. Any guy who
could turn into a jaguar would be
perfectly fine. It was ridiculous to worry
about him.
She moved her attention to Inti.
Paul was clearly a brilliant investor, but
he also really seemed to care about his
employees. Environmental policy had
also been a cornerstone of Inti’s work.
Made sense, she guessed. Of course a
jaguar shifter would care deeply about
the natural world. And the innovations
they made at their corporate warehouse
could set a standard for the rest of the
industry. “You don’t have to be a
manufacturer to make huge strides in
using less and saving more,” he’d told
her. She used that quote as her leading
paragraph. It gave a better idea of who
Paul really was than Laura’s whole
butchery of her article did.
She didn’t have to resort to
cheating to have a great story. Her own
work would prove that.
She was well into the zone by the
time she finished the final paragraph.
She printed it out to look over the draft.
She felt completely confident about her
work. The writing had flowed so well.
She sorted through the pens at her
desk, trying to find her favorite red one.
She’d put it on there at one point—had it
rolled off?
She was under the desk looking for
the damn thing when she heard a knock
at the door. “Coming,” she called. Was it
Paul? A little part of her hoped he had
come to see her anyway, no matter what
she’d said. Even though she’d probably
be annoyed with him if it was really him.
Well, who said love had to be
rational, right?
She didn’t have a chain or a
peephole. The neighborhood was safe
and she’d always had good neighbors,
the kind of people who’d come running
if they thought anything was wrong.
She didn’t recognize the man in the
suit. He was tall, a little taller than Paul,
with gray hair and steel blue eyes. “Miss
Bailey?”
“Um, yes. What is—can I help
you?”
“I certainly hope so.” His smile
was warm, but it was a false warm.
“May I come in? I’d like to speak with
you about something...a bit personal.”
“What?”
“A mutual friend of ours,” he said.
“Paul.”
Paul? “Do you mean Paul Larson?
I did an interview with him earlier in the
week.” Was this man the shifter she’d
seen earlier? Maybe this man was
someone Paul would want to know.
Even if he wasn’t, she wasn’t sure she
could tell him no without rousing even
more suspicion. She stepped back and
let him in.
“Well,” he said, stepping forward,
a little too close. “That’s what I’d like to
talk with you about.” He extended his
hand. I’m Abe Garner. I work at
Brisbane Chemical, and we’ve had
trouble with an environmental terrorist
near our site.”
Abby shook her head. “I’m sorry,
Mr. Garner. I really don’t know what
that would have to do with me. Or Mr.
Larson.”
“Our property borders the Whitefin
Lake territory. An animal—a jaguar—
has
been
caught
on
camera
in
conjunction with several acts of
sabotage. Acts that could potentially
harm the lake.”
“I don’t know anything about that,”
she said.
“We’ve increased security as a
result of this,” he continued. “Video,
audio
surveillance.
They’re
pretty
sensitive.” He was well into her space.
She wanted to back away from him, but
she wouldn’t. Whatever he was trying to
say, it wouldn’t look good if she started
backing down.
“I’m still really not sure what this
has to do with me.”
“You were at the site today,” he
said. “Our audio surveillance caught you
saying a name, just as the jaguar
appeared. ‘Paul.’”
This wasn’t good. This wasn’t
good at all. “I know a lot of Pauls,” she
said. “And that’s public property you’re
recording on. Not yours.” Her mind was
whirring. What exactly had Brisbane
been up to? A legitimate company would
call the cops. Not track her down like
this.
“We’re within our rights to capture
anything within a reasonable distance on
public property,” he said. “The lake is
public property. That’s why we’re
concerned about this individual—”
“If you have an accusation to make,
go ahead and make it,” she said. It was
maybe a little stupidly brave, but she
still felt good about saying it.
He wasn’t pretending to be warm
any more. His jaw was set and his eyes
were cold. “You know Paul Larson,” he
said. “He’s one of our competitors. He
could easily be the person making our
lives difficult...and if you know his
secret, you can easily be a person who
could persuade him to stop.”
“This is—” She shook her head. “I
don’t understand what you think you
want from me. And I don’t think I can
give it to you.”
“I think you can,” he said. He
opened his suit coat and she could see
the butt of his gun showing. “Now, it’s
customary to warn you not to scream at
this point,” he said. “I won’t kill you—
you’re too useful to me for that—but I
can make things very, very painful for
you.”
She had no doubt from his voice
that he was sure he could do just that.
It felt like she was caught in some
kind of nightmare. Who was this man?
She’d heard plenty of rumors about
Brisbane Chemical, but she hadn’t ever
imagined they’d hire the kind of people
who would pull guns on people. Who the
hell would do that?
This couldn’t be real.
Maybe it was a stunt.
Maybe Tina had hired a stripper?
No, that was ridiculous. Tina
wouldn’t—even if she had, she wouldn’t
know all this—
“Now,” he said. “You’re going to
come with me, and we’re going to talk.
And then we’ll have a little chat with
your jaguar friend.”
She stepped back, out of instinct
more than anything else, and he grabbed
her arm before her foot hit the floor. He
was fast, and his grip was tight. “Right
now,” he said. “We’re going down the
stairs, and out the back door. Remember.
No screaming. No trying any tricks.
Where’s your phone?”
“I don’t remember,” she lied. “I put
it down, somewhere.”
“Guess I’ll have to check your
pockets,” he said, pulling her closer.
“Just to be sure.”
“I—it might be by my desk,” she
stammered. She didn’t want this creep
touching her at all.
He glanced over. “That better be
your only phone,” he snarled. “Or you’ll
have a lot more problems than you’re
planning on.”
“It—it is,” she said. She sure
wasn’t going to lie to him about that.
He dragged her toward the door.
“Can I put my shoes on?”
“Just keep moving,” he said.
“You’ll be fine.”
She was going to be murdered, and
she was going to be murdered in her
bare feet. It shouldn’t bother her, it
should be the least of her problems, but
damn it, she wanted at least to have a
nice pair of flats on.
He started pulling her through the
door. “Don’t slow down,” he warned,
“or there’s going to be a problem.”
Her heart was pounding. This can’t
be real, she thought. This can’t be
happening.
But it felt real enough.
“I should shut my door,” she said.
“Someone might think—”
He kicked the door viciously shut.
“No more from you,” he said. “Not
until we’re in the car.”
What would you do if I did scream?
He probably could think of a lot of ways
to hurt her. He didn’t seem particularly
imaginative, but you didn’t need
imagination when it came to making
people hurt. She knew that well enough.
He had the gun pressed to the small
of her back. “Keep moving,” he said.
“Don’t hesitate or it’ll cost you.”
She nodded. She hoped the back
stairs were clean. Bad enough she was
going to die. She didn’t need to die with
a cut on her foot.
They walked toward the door.
Abby could feel her heart hammering in
her chest. She was going to die in bare
feet for a jaguar shifter she didn’t even
know. She could laugh if she didn’t want
to cry so much.
“Open it,” the man commanded
when they reached the door.
She turned the knob of the heavy
metal door. The stairs looked...well, no
dirtier than usual. She’d have to settle
for that.
“You first,” he said.
She took a step onto the landing and
something happened behind her. The gun
that had been pressed into her back was
suddenly gone.
And then—
She heard the man cry out.
She spun around. What had just
happened?
Paul had just happened. He was in
jaguar form, pinning the man down,
thick, powerful claws sunk into the arm
that had held the gun. The gun itself was
now on the floor. She grabbed it.
She couldn’t call him by name. The
man already suspected way too much
about Paul. “I—I don’t know who you
are,” she stammered. “But—but if you
can understand me, keep him there. I’m
going to call the police.”
She ran back to her apartment and
called 911.
Paul had moved so quietly. She
hadn’t heard anything at all. But that was
what a cat did, wasn’t it? They watched
and waited in the shadows.
Whoever this guy was, he hadn’t
suspected a thing.
She felt a surge of admiration for
Paul. He’d done more than just protect
her—he’d done it without hurting
anyone. Well, maybe the man’s arm hurt.
But he kind of deserved that.
Paul was still sitting on the man
when she came back, as content as a cat
guarding a favorite toy.
“When you hear the sirens,” she
said. “You should go. He says there’s
been a jaguar around messing with their
stuff. He might accuse you of—I don’t
know. Doing whatever he’s angry about.
Just go, so you’ll be safe.”
“It’ll be your word against mine,
then,” the man said. Paul shifted his
weight and put a paw directly on the
man’s throat.
“So I just randomly picked a man
up off the street, stole his gun, and
accused him of trying to kidnap me?”
She shook her head. “Do you really think
that’ll work?” Now that the crisis was
over, she could breathe more normally.
Think more normally. “No. You came
here, you threatened me, and you were
ready to do—I don’t even know what.
No one’s going to believe you. But they
might be really interested in what you
told me about that jaguar, and what he
was doing. They might want to take a
careful look at that company of yours.”
Maybe she didn’t know the second
jaguar, but she could guess. There’d
been an investigation of Brisbane a
while back. That cat was looking for
something. Maybe he’d even found it.
And Abby would bet cold hard cash that
it wasn’t anything good.
“No,” the man said. “No one’s
gonna believe you when I’m done.
We’ve got plenty of lawyers who’ll
make you look like a cheap, desperate
fame whore. You work for this tiny little
paper, probably were ready to make
anything up for a scoop—”
His words cut off with a choking
sound. Paul must have been pressing
harder against his throat.
“You can tell the cops whatever
you want,” Abby said. “I don’t think I’m
the one who’s going to come off badly.”
She could hear the police sirens in
the distance. They were coming fast. No
big surprise after what she’d told them.
She looked at the jaguar. “You’d
better go.”
Paul shook his head. She could
read his body language: Not yet.
She didn’t want him to risk
discovery. But she couldn’t deny she felt
safer with him pinning this guy down.
“All right,” she said. “But...don’t stay
too long, whoever you are.”
Paul made...well, it was almost a
chirruping sound, like a housecat would
make when it was saying hello.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said.
“You’re working with it,” the man
said.
“You’ve
been—”
Another
strangling sound.
“Don’t kill him!” Abby squeaked.
She wanted to know what he’d been
doing. What Brisbane had been doing.
Paul paused for a second, then
darted away like—well, like a cat. Abby
could already hear the officers in the
building.
Abby held the gun on the man, who
immediately put a hand up to his throat.
It looked like it was already starting to
bruise. “Don’t move,” she said. Could
she shoot him if she had to?
After what he’d done to her,
probably.
Maybe in the kneecap or something.
They did that in the movies.
The door to the back stairwell
opened, and a man in uniform came
through. It was Gary, one of the patrol
officers—he must have been closest.
What a relief.
“Thank goodness,” she said, and
started lowering her gun.
“Abby?” he said. He looked
flabbergasted.
“Hi,” she managed. “This man—”
The man had gotten to his knees
while she’d been distracted—she’d let
her guard down!—and moved toward
Gary.
“No,” she said, and pulled the
trigger.
16
Paul was already in the woods
when he heard the shot. His whole body
tensed. Was she—
No. She was still alive, he could
sense it. And he could sense no danger,
not any more.
The police must have things under
control.
He’d wait until they left and get his
clothes and phone. The smarter choice
would be to wait until dark, but he’d left
Chris flying around the park, and while
Chris could hang out for a long time,
Paul didn’t want to leave him that long.
At least his jaguar’s coat kept him safely
hidden most of the time. And it was
amazing how you could slip by people
when they weren’t actively looking for a
jaguar.
First he had to see Abby leave that
building. He had to watch the police pull
out—after all, they would be looking for
a jaguar.
Until he saw her in one piece, he
wouldn’t, couldn’t believe that she was
safe. He had to be sure; his instincts
weren’t enough. He needed the proof of
his senses. Needed to see her face.
What had happened? The man had
smelled strange. Chemical. Toxic. Paul
hadn’t recognized his scent, but he didn’t
often encounter people in both jaguar
and human forms. It wasn’t easy to
compare.
A sudden movement hit the corner
of his eye. A bird, a big one—usually
big birds knew better than to—
Oh.
Chris fluttered next to him, shook
his feathers out, and turned human. “So,”
he said. “I won’t stay here long, but I
know you’ll understand me like this. She
okay?”
“Safe,” he tried to say, and
remembered he was still a cat. He
settled for inclining his head.
“Where’d you park the car? I could
change. Might be easier than standing out
here naked.”
Paul shook his head. He couldn’t
change yet. Not until Abby was safe.
And Chris didn’t speak panther in bird
or human form.
“Right,” Chris said. “Anyway,
when you can talk we...we have stuff to
talk about. I think I found out why people
cared so much about that lake. Maybe
why Abby’s in danger.”
Paul turned, just a little to Chris,
hoping Chris would get the hint.
“You’re probably not going to be
surprised when the words ‘Brisbane
Chemical’ come up.”
No. That would explain the smell.
The back door to Abby’s apartment
building opened, and Chris changed in a
ruffle of feathers, flew up into the tree
above Paul’s head.
The man came out first in
handcuffs, a uniformed police officer on
either side.
Then Abby followed. Her heart
was still pounding, but she was safe, and
she was calmer than he’d been when
he’d come to rescue her.
She’d be all right.
She looked over, into the woods.
Almost like she could see him through
the trees.
She was his mate. Maybe she
could.
He lowered his eyes toward her,
then caught himself again. She might be
your mate, but she’s still a human. She
won’t see it. She probably wouldn’t
understand it if she could.
He couldn’t smell the gunpowder
from there, but he knew it was there. Her
shot had gone wide, fortunately, but it’d
certainly stopped the man from trying
anything further.
She’d be with the police for a
while. He needed to get back to the car,
back to his phone, to tell her he was
safe, offer her—
Offer her anything she needed.
At least Chris’s clothes would be in
the car, though he should probably wait
to change until they were away from
Abby’s building, just in case. It would
be suspicious enough when Paul snuck
back to the car and threw his clothes
back on.
“Did we really have to go this far
back before you’d let me change? I’m
starving now,” Chris said. Flying burned
a lot of calories. “Can we hit
McDonald’s or something?”
“Yeah,” Paul said. Maybe he’d
gone a little on the far side. But it was
important that Chris be safe too. “But
there’s an energy bar in the glove
compartment for now.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“So tell me what you saw at the
lake.”
“Our friends at Brisbane are up to
something,” Chris said. “I’ve been
looking around at their storage facilities,
and there’s a sheen on the water there.
Chemical. I think something’s leaking.
Maybe intentionally. It’s pretty quiet out
there.” He took another bite of the bar—
it was already halfway gone—and
chewed for a second. “I bet you’ll be
able to smell it. All I’ve got out there are
my eyes.” Like any bird, when Chris
was shifted, he couldn’t smell a damn
thing.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and the
other cat will be out there waiting for
us.”
“And want to be buddies?” Chris
rolled his eyes. “I admire your
optimism.”
“Hey,” Paul said. “We’re friends,
right?” They’d been friends since the
day they met, both of them smarting from
their losses. Paul had always wondered
if what exactly it was they’d sensed in
each other, aside from that shared grief.
Was it just that they were both shifters?
Their shared heritage? They had a lot in
common, though Chris’s life had been
completely different from his in a lot of
ways. Chris’s mother had grown up
working to keep her family fed, while
Paul’s mom had been born to a family
with status and privilege; Chris was
surrounded by sisters, while Paul had
lost the only family he had on the day of
the accident; Chris went through
boyfriends like a libertine, while Paul
had only dated a little, waiting for
someone as special as Abby. But those
differences seemed small compared to
what mattered.
He’d never thought he’d feel that
kind of instant connection with anyone
else. Then he’d met Abby.
“So we’re gonna ask him to join
our special shifter club?” Chris leaned
back in the seat and grinned.
“Might be a girl.”
“Nah, he should be a guy. A hot
one.”
It had been a guy. But damned if he
was going to tell Chris that. Chris had
enough guys to keep himself distracted
with.
Paul’s phone buzzed. “See if that’s
Abby,” he said.
Chris picked his phone up. “Yeah,
you want me to read it? Or should it be
private?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Just read it, asshole.”
“She’s still at the station. She’ll be
there a while longer. Wondering where
you are.”
“Go ahead and tell her we’re going
out to the lake,” he said. “Tell her I can
pick her up. I don’t want her to be
alone.”
“I bet you don’t,” Chris muttered,
but he sent the text. He stretched a little
in his seat. “Shit, I haven’t been naked
this many times in a day since college.”
“I don’t need to know that,” Paul
chided.
“Should I tell her you’re getting
naked?”
“I’d
better
not,”
he
said.
“Someone’s looking for me. Or the other
jaguar. I’d rather not change unless I
have to. The kind of people who send
thugs after reporters normally keep more
than one asshole on staff.”
“True enough. So what, we walk? I
won’t be able to tell you what I saw
without pointing, and they’re definitely
going to think it’s weird if you talk to a
hawk. And it’s not like I’m a species you
see around here. It’s fine if I keep to the
skies, but I hang around too much,
someone catches on. Especially at the
park. More birdwatchers.”
That was a good point. “You’ll be
able to see it?”
“Pretty sure,” he said. “I can
explain if—”
The car Paul had seen pulling in as
he left was still at the park. “We’ll play
visitors,” he said. “I just got that
apartment, we can be seeing the sights.
Looking for the right place to kayak or
something.”
“You know how to kayak?”
“No,” Chris said. “You do, though,
right? You hike and all that shit.”
“You hike, sometimes.”
“Visiting home doesn’t count as
‘hiking.’ You’re doing that shit for fun.”
Chris scratched the back of his neck.
“Give me a nice climate-controlled gym
any time.” He frowned at Paul’s phone.
“Abby says the guy’s a known criminal,
at least that’s what the cops are saying.”
Paul took his phone back. You’re
all right? After a second he added, this
is Paul now.
Good, came the reply. I’m okay. A
little shook up. Thank you.
I’d do far more for you, he thought.
No problem, he typed. I’d like to
take you back to my place when you’re
done. You’ll be safer.
OK, she sent back, and he felt a
wash of relief. That was the most
important thing of all, keeping Abby
safe. Everything else could wait, or be
dealt with later.
“All right,” he said, sliding his
phone in his pocket. “Let’s take this
nature walk. See what we can see before
I have to pick up Abby.”
17
Paul picked her up from the police
station. I don’t care if it looks
suspicious, he wrote. I want to see you.
Abby had to confess, she didn’t
care either. She wanted to see Paul too.
She wanted to be back in his arms. Her
apartment felt dangerous, and she had to
go back to finish the article. She’d done
so much work. She couldn’t stop now.
“You’re sure you need to submit
this article,” Paul said, skeptically.
“Yes,” she said. “I was almost
done!”
“That’s not the point,” he said.
“Someone tried to kidnap you. You—”
“The point is that I’ve worked my
—my ass off,” she said. “And I had a
terrible night. And I at least want to get
this story published.”
“Okay,” he said. He shook his head.
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” she said.
“Can you at least finish it at my
apartment? Chris promised the wi-fi’s
working and the furniture’s all there
now.”
That didn’t sound bad. Not bad at
all. “If you insist,” she said. “I have to
pick my stuff up first, though.”
He pulled in. “Let me go in with
you,” he said. “Please.”
“All right,” she said. That sounded
pretty good, honestly. For all she
insisted on going back in, she wasn’t
really looking forward to it. And she
definitely didn’t want to do it alone.
They got out together and he put an arm
on the small of her back as they walked
to the building. It felt good. She felt safe.
Even when she got to the door of
her apartment. Even when her pulse
jumped when she saw the laptop, just as
she’d left it, her stack of papers. “I
should find my pen,” she said.
“I’ll buy you a pen,” he said. “Take
what you can’t live without to get the
article done, some clothes for tomorrow
—but we don’t need to waste a lot of
time here.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. But he was
right. She was distracted, not thinking
about what was important. Paul could
keep her safe—she was sure of that—but
she didn’t want to have him exposing his
secret if she could help it. She went over
to her closet and dug out her suitcase,
threw in a pair of jeans she knew fit and
some clean underwear. Shirts were
trickier. She didn’t want to look too
casual or too slutty. Just...pretty.
Finally she settled on a light
sweater and two nice short-sleeved
shirts, plain colors, classic styling. No
slogans or anything.
She didn’t fuss this much over her
clothes in her last job interview. She
grinned
at
herself.
You’re
being
ridiculous.
“Nice to see you smile,” Paul said
gently from her bedroom door, where
he’d been quietly hovering. “You have
any medications, anything like that? I
probably have a spare toothbrush, but if
you want your own, I can grab it.”
“I—thanks,” she said.
“You’re...kind of rattled,” he said.
“Let me help.”
She took a look at her half-full
suitcase. “Maybe...maybe you should,”
she admitted.
He came up and put an arm around
her waist. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re
pretty rattled. I’d only be surprised if
you weren’t.”
“That helps,” she said.
He kissed her neck. “That’s what
the mate bond’s supposed to be about.
Comforting each other, even if it’s just
by being in the same room.”
“Well, it’s working.” His hands felt
warm, and his touch was calming. Well,
not just calming, but calming would do
for now. “You said you have a bed at
this new place of yours? Sheets, all that
stuff?”
“I promise,” he said.
“No, I just—I thought we could
pack that stuff. If we needed to.”
“So. Medications?”
“No,” she said. “I mean, painkillers
and stuff, but only when I need it.”
Despite everything, she didn’t have a
headache. She just felt a little shaky.
“All right. I’ll get your toothbrush.
Should I get your makeup?”
“I can use what I’ve got in my bag,”
she said. She had some mascara in there
and lipstick. She wouldn’t need more
than that, at least for a little while. Most
everything she’d need but clothes was in
her bag. The toothbrush would be good,
though.
“I apologize,” Paul said, setting her
bags down inside his apartment. “I
haven’t moved in, really. Just had Chris
set a few things up.”
“Don’t
apologize,”
she
said.
Whatever he said, the apartment was
beautiful.
Abby
had
seen
these
apartments before, but only on the
outside: they were the kind of expensive,
remodeled places that commanded high
rent and normally went to weekenders,
whether it was tourists or people like
Paul, who worked in the city.
There was a big, spacious main
room with a thick-looking cream-
colored couch. Leather? It looked sleek.
Modern. There was a big blue Oriental
rug covering most of the gleaming
hardwood floor, and an old-fashioned
armchair with blue brocade. It looked
friendly and open. Her photo was
leaning on the wall by the fireplace.
“This is nice,” she said.
“It’s not me yet,” he said. “Chris
did a lot of it. I mean, he’s got good
taste, don’t get me wrong. And he knows
me pretty damn well.”
“I’ve gotten that impression,” she
said.
“I know, it’s weird,” he said.
“No,” she said. “I’m glad. Tina and
I are kind of the same way.” She’d had
boyfriends who thought it was weird,
how close she was to her best friend.
But there was nothing wrong with having
a friend you could rely on. Especially
for people like her and Paul, who
couldn’t rely on their families.
Being in a new place helped. She
felt like she could breathe a little easier.
And Paul was there. Handsome. Strong.
He’d kept her safe once and she was
sure he could do it again.
“So,” she said. “You told me you
were going to tell me what was at the
park.”
“I was,” he said. “We didn’t have
to sneak around too much, it was kind of
hiding in plain sight.” He pulled out his
phone. “Actually, it might work out
pretty well as a follow up to the story on
Inti. Goofus versus Gallant, that sort of
thing.”
“What did they do?”
“Pretty
sure
they’re
dumping
chemicals. Not sure if it’s outright
dumping or just poor storage practice,
but it doesn’t make a damn bit of
difference to the water. Between Chris
and I, we saw a lot of the signs.
Whoever that strange panther is, they
must be getting close to proving it.” He
showed her a picture. “See that on the
water? The little scum there? Normally
that comes from decomposing leaves,
but you can see the color isn’t right. It’s
too thick, too, if you get close. And these
storage containers are way too close to
the water anyway, it’s got to be against
regulation. It’s just no one’s been
looking.”
She looked. It did seem unusual.
And it was pretty clear that the
containers were too close to the water,
even if they weren’t leaking. “There’s
my next story, I guess,” she said.
“Though I don’t think I’ll say anything
about—what did you say? Goofus and
Gallant?”
“What,
you
never
read
Highlights?”
What the hell was he talking about?
“Um...no?”
“They’re—they’re like good idea,
bad idea, I guess. Gallant does the right
thing, and Goofus is a goofus.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll get into
that,” she said. “I’ll...just let you look
good by contrast.” She wanted to curl
back up into his arms and stay there. But
it was getting late, and she really needed
to finish that article. “Um...where can I
work?”
“Wherever you want to,” he said.
“Chris set up the wi-fi so the password
—um. Well.”
“Well?”
He looked abashed. “‘Kitty2000’.
No spaces.”
“You’ll have to thank him,” she
said, walking over to the couch. “That’s
the first laugh I’ve had since—you
know.”
“Do you want some company, or
should I leave you to work?”
The last thing she wanted was to be
alone. “Please—please stay,” she said.
“It won’t be that long, anyway.”
“I won’t get bored, don’t worry. I
am going to make some hot tea, though.
Would you like some?”
“Yes.” She sat down on the couch
and pulled out her laptop. “Please.
Thank you. For...for everything.”
“You know you don’t have to thank
me,” he said. “But you’re welcome. Any
preference for tea?”
“Something herbal, probably, so I
might be able to sleep tonight.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “I bet I can
get you to sleep.” He leered a little at
her before disappearing into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I...hope you can.” Back to
work, she reminded herself. She was just
lucky that the article was almost done.
She hadn’t been short on distractions
today.
She was afraid being away from
him would take away that feeling of
safety, but she could hear him working in
the kitchen, and that reassured her. He’s
right there. You’re going to be all right.
“Do you like cream and sugar?” he
called from the kitchen.
“Just a little sugar, please.”
Soon, she was working on her
article, just as if she was at home. She
heard the tea kettle whistle, but didn’t
pay it much attention until Paul came in
with two big blue pottery mugs full of
tea.
“You must like blue,” she said.
“Cats don’t see colors like humans
can,” he said. “I can see blues and
greens better when I’m a cat, so I like to
have them where I live. I keep more
variety in the office, because there are a
lot more people coming through than just
shifters. You mind if I sit next to you?”
“Of course not.”
“I don’t want to be distracting,” he
said, settling down next to her. “But I’d
like to be here.”
“You’re fine,” she said. “I’m
almost done, anyway.”
“Good.”
The tea was good. Warm and just
sweet enough. Paul picked up his phone
and started tapping at the screen.
She took a final read of the article
and carefully checked her email from the
Boston Common before sending it off.
There. Done.
She’d finished work, and when she
turned to her left, she could see Paul,
playing something on his phone. It felt
like the kind of night any couple might be
having. So what if one of them was a
jaguar and someone had tried to kidnap
Abby earlier in the day, right? Normal.
Everything was totally normal.
Her hands were shaking.
“Abby,” Paul said. “Abby, are you
—”
He caught her in his arms just as
she felt the tears in her eyes. “I’m all
right,” she said. “I’m all right, I—it’s
just—”
She didn’t know what to say.
“You’re safe now,” he said. “I’m
here. It’s all going to be all right.”
She kissed him. It felt just as good,
just as right, as it had the first time. He
pulled her closer, and she felt his warm,
strong chest. You’ll keep me safe, she
thought. I know you will.
He was so strong. Even being in his
arms told her that.
But that was nothing compared to
what he did next.
He scooped her up in his arms as
easily as if he was lifting a bag of
groceries. He kissed her cheek then
carried her, bridal- style, to his
bedroom. She laughed again. It felt good.
It felt good just being close to him.
He flicked the light on with his left
hand, still holding her tight, then
carefully placed her on the bed. There
was a thick blue-green blanket on the
bed, the color of the sea, almost. It was
very soft.
“You—you finished your article,
right?”
“I finished it!” She smiled and
pulled him in for another kiss. He was
an amazing kisser, and he tasted like
honeyed tea. She wanted to stay here,
like this, forever. Lost in his touch. In his
taste.
He pulled her t-shirt over her head
and started on her jeans—it was a relief
to be free of the denim, to feel the
warmth of his body.
He was still wearing all his
clothes, though. Let’s fix that. She
reached out for him, tugging at his shirt
—a nice collared polo. Light blue. Very
money.
But Paul looked even better when
he pulled his shirt over his head. She let
go of the shirt and traced his muscles,
lightly, with her fingertips. He shivered.
“You’re amazing,” he said.
No one ever talked to her like this.
“Yeah?” she asked, smiling up at him.
“Yeah,” he said, and dipped down
for another kiss. It felt so good to have
his skin against hers, his strong hands on
her back, pulling her closer.
She clung to him after they broke
the kiss, wanting him closer, closer.
“I guess this is all right,” he said, a
little sheepishly.
“More than all right.” She stretched
out her legs and wrapped them around
him. “This is exactly what I needed.”
“Well.” His smile stretched out like
the Cheshire Cat. “Then I better give you
exactly what you need.” He moved, as
quick as a cat could, and before Abby
knew what was happening he had her
legs balanced on his shoulders, and was
mouthing at—
Mouthing at her panties.
Oh. My. God.
She couldn’t remember anyone who
wanted to…consume her like this. Like
he was trying to tease and devour her, all
at once. Oh. She was going to melt.
And he seemed to be loving every
minute of it.
His teeth grasped the fabric of her
panties, and his tongue darted into her
folds, teasing, tasting. Oh, that was good.
Every motion of his tongue sent tiny
shivers through her body. She could feel
the heat rising in her, too quick, too
soon. “Don’t—” she said— “if you do
too much, I’ll—”
She could hear him, feel him, laugh.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind doing it
more than once.”
Oh, it felt good. So good. But she
wanted him inside her. “Please,” she
said. “Please—”
He pulled her panties off. His
hands were so strong, so sure. “All
right,” he said. “Do you want to—do you
want to turn over?”
God. God, she did. She nodded and
rolled over onto her stomach, then
pulled her knees up and got on all fours.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I
can hardly believe you.”
His hand landed on her thigh and
stroked it, his hand so gentle and light
she could hardly stand it. “Please,” she
said again. She was burning; her whole
body was burning, from her tight, hard
nipples to her throbbing cunt. “I need
you.” She wanted him. All of him.
Everything.
“All right,” he said, sounding a
little breathless himself. “Abby—”
He slid into her, thick, hard,
perfect.
“Oh,” she said, because she
couldn’t say anything else. Everything in
her was focused on Paul.
Paul moved inside her smoothly,
but she could feel the strength that
guided his every movement, every thrust.
Every time he slid in all the way, she
could feel the pressure against her clit,
building and building from behind.
By the time he slipped his hand to
her clit, she was already dripping wet,
and every motion of his just drove her
more and more wild. His fingers teased
her clit lightly at first, then pressed tiny,
almost delicate circles into her, and she
wanted to scream.
“You’re
so
gorgeous,”
Paul
whispered. “So wet, so tight—”
Abby couldn’t speak. All she could
do was want. Want more, want him
deeper, harder.
She moaned, and he seemed to
understand what she wanted, needed. He
thrust faster, harder, still so sure of
himself, so strong, so good—
Suddenly her whole body was
shaking uncontrollably, a wave of
sensation taking her from her head to her
toes and back up again. She closed her
eyes and let the rest of her senses feel
the wave, her body letting go of
everything in a rush of ecstacy. She did
her best to keep her hips up, her body
tight around Paul, but too much was
happening at once for her to remain
focused on anything but the pleasure
inside her.
But that must have been enough for
Paul. She could feel him coming inside
her, his hips thrusting, his strong hands
now gripping her hips. “Oh,” he cried
out, and then, as he caught his breath,
“I...oh, Abby.”
“Hey,” she said, as they moved
together, Paul sliding down and Abby
turning so they could be side by side. He
pulled her tightly into his arms.
“So...was it good for you?”
He laughed. “I’m the luckiest guy in
the world,” he said, and kissed her dark
hair.
18
He felt Abby’s breathing ease and
slow, and after a little while she drifted
off into sleep. That was good. She
needed the rest.
He wouldn’t be able to rest for a
while, but that was all right. If Brisbane
Chemical was the kind of company to
send one thug after Abby, they might
well send another one.
Paul’s apartment was new enough
that it might not even hit their radar. But
the whole thing still made him nervous.
Part of him wanted to shift and give the
whole place a good smell, but he didn’t
want to do that while Abby was asleep.
She’d handled his transformations very
well, but she’d been through enough, she
didn’t need to adjust to going to bed with
a human and waking up to a jaguar.
He thought of Mom’s necklace.
She’d told him he needed to give it to his
mate, when he found her.
He’d been certain he never would,
but he hadn’t minded. It had reminded
him of her, of what she’d done to take
care of him. He wondered if Aaron even
remembered her.
He’d been thinking a lot more about
his baby brother lately. Maybe it was
just because having Abby around made
him think of family, brought all those
memories back. He wasn’t going to let
any children of his go through what he
had. What Aaron probably had. Paul’s
memories of his father were fuzzy, but
they were mostly of fear, of a strict, hard
man.
If only he knew the right way to
reach out to him. Paul had changed his
last name, but he was certain Father still
knew who he was. And who knew what
he would have told Aaron about him?
About Mom and their family? “Hello,
I’m your brother, don’t listen to anything
our father says” was no way to begin a
conversation. Or a relationship.
Abby mumbled something in her
sleep, and he smiled. It was nice, being
next to her. Comfortable. He’d just
moved in, but having Abby in his bed
made the whole place feel like home. He
stroked her dark hair. It was so soft. Like
silk.
He should buy her a silk nightgown.
A dark color. Purple, maybe? She
looked lovely in purple.
She looked lovely in any color.
Maybe he should buy her a few silk
nightgowns. A rainbow of colors. He
could—
A knock at the door interrupted his
reverie, and for a fleeting instant he
missed his apartment back in the city,
with its efficient built-in security system.
It might be fine.
It might be Chris, checking in on
them, though he would probably send a
text first. And wait for an answer.
Paul got up and pulled his pants on.
Whoever it was, they were still there.
“What—what is it?”
Damn it. Whoever it was, they’d
woken up Abby. “Someone at the door,”
he answered, grabbing his t-shirt and
pulling it over his head. “You just sit
tight.”
“We told the police I’d be here,”
she said. “It might just be—”
The knock came again, a little
louder.
“Get your clothes on, just in case,”
he said. “But don’t come out.”
“All right,” she agreed.
He grabbed his phone as he walked
toward the door. No messages. That
could mean anything, but probably
nothing good.
No peephole at this place, either.
He let the human step back and the cat
step forward and took a sniff.
No, that’s not possible—
Two scents, one recent, one just a
memory, flooded together, and he slid
the deadbolt back and opened the door.
The man standing in front of him
was tall, dark-haired, and so familiar it
felt like a punch in the gut.
“I was hoping,” Aaron said. “But I
wasn’t sure it’d be you.”
Paul threw his arms around his
brother, unable to speak. The panther at
the park. It’d been him. Of course it’d
been him. He felt like a fool.
“I’m so glad,” Aaron said. “I—I
missed you so much.”
“Mom was sure—” he managed to
stammer. “She was sure you were
human. If—if she’d known—”
“Dad said she hated me,” Aaron
said. “But I didn’t think it was true. I
never thought it was true.”
“She loved you,” Paul said. “She
loved you so much. I—” He stepped
back. He hadn’t seen Aaron’s face
outside a magazine since...well, it felt
like forever. “I love you too. I can’t
believe you’re here.”
“I always wanted—I thought,
maybe I should just pick up the phone,
call him, you know? But I was afraid. I
was so afraid—”
“He was wrong,” Paul said.
“Wrong about her, wrong about me. He
—he found out about me, and then he
found out about her, and she...she just
ran. Ran from Dad, and thought he’d
chase after us harder if we took you
along.” Aaron had tears in his eyes.
Hell, Paul did too. “And she was sure
you were human, all human, like Dad.
You looked so much like him, and she
said it’s really rare to have one shifter in
a mixed family, much less two.”
“There’s two,” Aaron said softly.
“Oh, man, I’m so glad it’s you. There’s
so much I want to—”
“Wait,” Abby said from the
bedroom door. “Wait just a second—this
is your brother?”
“I’m his brother,” Aaron said. “Um,
sorry about how we met.”
“And this is Abby, my mate,” Paul
said. “Someone came looking for you
tonight at her place.”
“I’m sorry about that too,” Aaron
said. “That’s actually why I’m here.”
19
Paul had called her his mate.
There were a thousand other
thoughts in her mind—about Brisbane
Chemical, about what Aaron’s brother
had been doing to investigate them,
about Paul and Aaron’s relationship,
about their father—okay, maybe more
than a thousand thoughts—but above all
that, more important than any of that, was
Paul introducing her as his mate.
His mate.
He’d said something about it, and
she’d half-believed it, but that had been
when they were alone together. Abby
knew from hard experience not to listen
to what guys said in private until they
owned up to it in public, too.
But here he was, owning up to it in
front of his brother. His brother who
shared the same secret.
“Um, I think there’s tea,” she said.
“I can...get some around anyway.”
“Any we have left over is ice cold
by now,” Paul said.
“I’ll start a new pot.” They needed
some time to themselves, though the best
she could do was go into the kitchen and
heat up some water. She dumped the old
water out and put new cold water in; she
didn’t make tea that often, but the ritual
was soothing right now. She even found
a ceramic teapot in the cupboard—it had
a beautiful blue-green glaze she’d have
to thank Chris for later—and put some
teabags in. She went with caffeinated.
She had a suspicion that they’d be up for
a while.
She’d wanted to leave them their
privacy, but she couldn’t help listening a
little as they talked.
“We don’t have a lot of time,”
Aaron said.
“The faster the word gets out the
sooner Abby’s safe, so that’s fine with
me—”
She took the old cups and put them
in
the
dishwasher;
she
couldn’t
remember which of them had which. It
didn’t really matter (after all, she was
his mate, right?), but it gave her
something to do while she was busy not
listening.
“—doing it for years—”
“—she’s got great research skills,
you should see what she—”
The second jaguar had been Aaron.
And he was sorry he’d scared her! She
shook her head. This whole thing was so
strange. It was like she’d walked into a
whole new world the second she opened
the door to Paul’s office.
She wiped the counter down, but
there really wasn’t much else to do. Paul
did a good job picking up after himself.
Paul was on the couch talking when
she gave up and walked back into the
living room. “You’ll have to meet him,”
he was saying. ‘When he’s human. He
said he thought he had eyes on you at one
point, but—”
“Yeah, I work pretty hard to blend
in.” Aaron was sitting on the big
armchair, his knees turned toward his
brother. “I do all right, for self-taught. I
did know a woman—well,” he shrugged.
“That was years ago. Knew she wasn’t
going to be my mate, felt it, but...it was
still hard to let her go. Go back to being
the only one.”
“You’re not the only one now,”
Paul said. “You’ll never be the only one
again. We know plenty of shifters. Kind
of got a little underground going.”
“‘We’?” Abby asked.
“Well,” Paul said. “He said I could
tell you, so I guess I will. Chris and I—
we don’t just have that plane crash in
common. He’s a shifter, too.”
“A cat?”
Paul laughed. “A bird. But a big
one, a hawk.”
She tried to picture Chris turning
into a hawk. He certainly had enough
energy to fly, she’d believe that. “Wow.”
“And he’s South American, like we
are?” Aaron asked.
“More than we are. Mom was half
Spanish. Both Chris’s parents were
Quechua—she was a doctor, went to
medical school in the States and stayed
here until his dad died; that was cancer.
Then she went back home, but Chris
stayed up here for college and never left.
She still came up to visit him, or he’d go
down—probably just a coincidence that
she was on the flight, not him.”
“Pretty big coincidence,” Aaron
said.
“Yeah,” Paul said. He looked over
at Abby and stretched his arm out.
“Come on, there’s plenty of room for
you.”
“Well,” she said. “If you insist.”
She smiled a little and settled down into
his embrace, enjoying that feeling of
belonging she got every time she touched
him.
“Aaron’s got a hell of a story for
you.”
“It’s not much of a story, honestly,”
Aaron said. “Just a lot of suspicions.
Well, it was a lot of suspicions until they
went after you. That...that’s a little hard
to dismiss as just my imagination.”
“I’d say,” she said. “How did you
track me down?”
“I googled a bunch of local papers
and found your picture online,” he said.
“Then I knew who you were, and I knew
you’d called me ‘Paul,’ which—that’s
my brother’s name, you know? I didn’t
figure the odds of there being another
panther shifter around here with the
name Paul who didn’t look like me were
very high.” He sat like Paul too, poised
like the panther he was. “I tried your
apartment, but I saw about half a dozen
police cars, so I didn’t figure I should go
knocking on your door. So...I called in a
couple of favors. Figured out that Paul
had rented some property here, and
figured—” He shrugged. “Worst case
scenario, I’d say, ‘whoops, wrong
address.’” He shrugged. “I changed
outside your parking lot, and I knew the
smells were familiar. From there, it was
just knocking on the door, and crossing
my fingers.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Abby
said. “I...Paul’s said so much about
you.”
“Yeah?” Aaron’s face just lit up.
“I...I thought about you, all the time.”
“We wanted to—we could never
think of a way to find you. Not without
Dad knowing, and he—” Paul fell silent.
“He what?” Aaron said. “What did
he want?”
“He just...he found out, about me.
And he didn’t want anything to do with
us. Mom thought you’d be all right, she
said hardly anyone has two shifter
children. And—I don’t know what he
would have done if we’d tried to stay.
Mom left with nothing but her jewels.
And me. She sold...she sold so much off
just to give us a place to live. To get
started again. And by the time I was on
my own...I didn’t even know where I
could start. If you weren’t a shifter, how
would you believe me? And if you
were...then I’d abandoned you. How
could I even begin to apologize?”
“You don’t have to,” Aaron said.
“Well, I know that now.” Paul
grinned and pulled Abby tighter. “And
now...I’ve got everything. My brother
back. My mate.”
“I have so many questions,” Aaron
said. “But...I think they can wait. We
need to figure out what Brisbane
Chemical is doing, and we need to figure
it out sooner, rather than later. They’re
definitely dumping or leaking something
—I can smell the chemicals. Figure you
can too.”
Paul nodded. “But it doesn’t smell
much worse than...well, any of these
chemical plants. I can’t see anything
unusual.”
“Something’s out there,” Aaron
said. “Seeping in. I’ve taken some
samples, and there’s something off, but
my scientists have only seen what’s
broken down—the component parts. I’m
not sure what exactly it is, and they can’t
tell, either. We’re going to have to get in
closer, or find another way.”
“Abby might be able to help with
that,” Paul said. “She’s pretty good at
her job.”
“You definitely caught the wrong
kind of attention,” Aaron said. “And I
bet you can figure out what’s going on
here. Especially with our help.”
“You have more favors you can call
in?” Abby asked.
Aaron shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m
kind of stuck. Dad’s a major investor in
Brisbane Chemical. I’ve had to be really
careful.”
“Are you going to be okay if he
finds out...we’ve found each other
again?”
“I don’t know, honestly,” Aaron
said. “He doesn’t exactly talk about you
a lot. Doesn’t talk about family at all,
really. I spent a lot of years off at
boarding school so he could wine and
dine the glitterati.”
“I’m sorry,” Paul said.
“It’s not your fault,” Aaron said. “I
—I thought about calling you a bunch of
times, too. Just never seemed like the
right time, and then it seemed like it was
too late.”
“No,” Paul said, and Abby couldn’t
see his smile, but she could feel it.
“Definitely not.”
“I think you should both put the
blame where it belongs,” Abby said.
“And it’s not you guys. You were kids.
Don’t be so hard on yourselves.”
“I thought about you all the time,”
Aaron said.
“Me too,” Paul said. “Well, I
thought about you. All the time.”
“I should let you guys—”
“No,” Paul said, squeezing her. “I
don’t want you to go. Not yet.
I...something could’ve happened to you
today. I’m not ready to let go.”
“I’d just be in the next room,” she
said.
“Are you tired? I’ll let you—”
“No, I’m fine,” she said. “As long
as you guys are all right. I just—you
guys have a lot to catch up on.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to
start if it was just the two of us,” Paul
said. “At least this whole pollution thing
gives us something to talk about.”
“Do you—do you have anything
written down? I could start going
through things.”
“I have a lot written down,” Aaron
said, getting his phone out of his jacket.
“I can share files with you, or let you
look through my phone—”
“Let me get my laptop, that’ll be
easier.”
Paul kissed her cheek. “Go. Do
what you were meant to do.”
20
There was so much to talk about
with Aaron. It started slowly, but then
they were talking about everything.
College. Girls. Work. What life had been
like without each other.
“She never stopped thinking about
you,” Paul said. “I know she was hoping
to find you, when you were older. I knew
I should’ve done it myself, I just—” I
just couldn’t, with her gone.
Aaron had found out he could shift
when he was sixteen. He’d done it over
and over again in the mirror, watching
himself, trying to figure out how it had
all happened. He’d never dared tell
Dad. “I knew I couldn’t,” he said. “I
don’t know how I knew, but I did. For a
while, I was worried I was the only
one.”
“You’re not,” Paul said. “You’re
not...not even close.”
“Yeah, I know. Finally figured that
out thanks to the Internet. And a couple
of leaps of faith.”
“You—do you have anyone? A
mate?” Paul glanced over at Abby,
happily researching on her laptop. He
hadn’t known her long, but her reporter’s
instincts were impossible to hide.
Aaron shook his head. “I’ve got
some good friends. But...it’s been easier
not to date, honestly. I’ve felt like I have
plenty of stuff going on. And I sure
couldn’t introduce a shifter girl to Dad,
if she turned out to be my mate.”
“No,” Paul said. At least Aaron’s
instincts there had been solid. Of course,
if he’d looked around online he would
have known that shifters ran in families.
“Do you...do you remember anything
about when we left?”
Aaron shook his head. “Not really.
I think—I more remember impressions.
That there were things we weren’t
supposed to talk about. That dad was
really, really angry. I think I remember
Mom crying.”
“We cried a lot,” Paul said.
“Though for me it was mostly after we
left. She moved fast when she realized
—” He shook his head. He still
remembered the look of horror and
disgust on Dad’s face. He’d never forget
that.
“I was kind of hoping you’d miss
all that.”
“Dad doesn’t know,” Aaron said.
“He thinks I’m...normal.” He crossed his
arms over his chest, nervously. “I’ve
been saving some money of my own.
Working to establish my own contacts.”
“I can help you, too.” He wanted to.
He remembered walking to school with
his little brother, looking out for him. He
wanted that back.
“I’m an adult now, you know,”
Aaron said, with a little smile that
looked like the one he’d had when he
was a kid.
“I know,” Paul said. “But you’re
still my kid brother.”
“I missed you,” Aaron said. “I
missed you so much.”
“I missed you too. I kept wondering
—”
“Got it!” Their heads both turned
toward Abby.
“Don’t tell me you solved this
already,” Paul said. “That’s cheating.”
“Not
exactly,”
Abby
said,
swiveling around in Paul’s rolling chair.
“But I’ve got a nice smelly lead. Three
years ago, Brisbane Chemical was
investigated
for
off-the-books
experimentation. On humans. Without
authorization from...well, just about
anyone. Some of the chemicals they
were using match the traces that Aaron
found here in the water.”
“Interesting,” Paul said. “Veddy
interesting.” He leaned back, stretching
his arm out. “Come here, get your
reward.”
“Very funny,” she said, “but you
two need to catch up, and I’m just getting
started.”
Aaron laughed. “She’s great,” he
said.
“She sure is.”
They talked until Paul felt his eyes
drooping.
“Shit,” Aaron said. “We’re both
ready to drop. Abby, how’re you?”
“You guys can go to bed,” she said.
“I’m almost done.”
“She’s
a
machine,”
Aaron
whispered to his brother.
“I heard that,” Abby said.
“Well, will you come to bed with
me?” Paul asked. “Aaron needs to sleep
out here, if he’s staying. You don’t want
to keep him up, right?”
She sighed. “All right, I guess not.
But let me work while you get around.”
“Fine, fine,” he said. “But then we
sleep. You need it, too.”
By the time Paul woke up, Abby
was already out of bed. He could sense
her back at the desk, her senses alive,
her heart beating with what the panther
knew was happy excitement.
He smiled. She certainly was a
mate he could be proud of, though he had
missed having her warmth and scent at
his side.
“Aaron’s out getting breakfast,” she
said without turning around when he
walked into the living area. “He said he
wanted to surprise us, and he’d be
back.”
“Did you send him to your friend’s
place?”
“Thought about it,” she said. “But
he said he was too hungry to drive that
far.” Her fingers clicked on the keys,
then came to a stop. She turned around
and smiled happily at him. “Hi,” she
said. “I already called into work. Told
them I had a scare last night.”
“That was true, anyway,” he said.
She nodded. “I don’t feel afraid
now, though. Not when you’re here.”
“Well, I’m glad,” he said. He
couldn’t stand at the bedroom door for
long; he had to walk over to Abby, touch
her, taste her.
But she wiggled a little when he
took her in his arms. “Wait,” she said.
“I’ve got to finish this. I think it’s going
to get us one hell of a headline.”
“This a proposal?”
She nodded.
He read over her shoulder: Is
Brisbane Chemical back to their old
tricks? Sampling at Whitefin Lake
indicates
that
unauthorized
experiments may be happening again.
“You can tell that? Because Aaron
said he didn’t get very far.”
“I found an old FOIA—Freedom of
Information Act—request that had a lot
of detail. A lot of detail. And then I
checked with my friend Irene this
morning—she’s a chemist—and she
helped me walk through what the
potential by-products of dumping the
chemicals in the FOIA stuff would be.
And voila, I had a bunch of matches. I’m
not sure they’re really dumping this stuff,
it might be an accidental leak. I wouldn’t
think they’d want the FDA to know
they’re doing this stuff again.”
“So pretend I don’t know anything
about the first time Brisbane Chemical.
Because I don’t. What did they get in
trouble for the first time?” He balanced
his chin on her shoulder so he could
watch her work.
“The first time, they were doing
research on human subjects without
sufficient approvals, with chemicals that
had never been used before in
combination, and—oh yeah—they didn’t
tell the human subjects the full risks of
what they were exposed to, probably
because they were doing it in secret
without sufficient approval.”
Wow. “How...how did they get
away with that? How are they still in
business?”
She shrugged. “No one actually got
hurt, that was the most important thing.
They still got in a lot of trouble. Huge
fines, and the whole company, not just
the R & D department, reorganized.
Most of the people responsible for those
first experiments aren’t in place any
more.”
“Most.”
“The investors are still the same,”
she said. “So it may be that someone
holding the purse strings has taken
charge.” She sighed. “That’s...where
things get a little complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“There are two major holding
companies that are the primary investors
in Brisbane Chemical, who’ve been key
since the founding. And one of them
is...well, it’s Mallory Holdings.”
Mallory Holdings was his father’s
company.
Aaron’s
company.
“Complicated,” he said, as he thought
about what that might mean.
“Yeah,” she said. “Exactly.”
“So you think he knows?”
“He knows that Mallory Holdings
has interest in Brisbane Chemical,” she
said. “He’d have to. And he probably
knows it’s a long-standing interest. But
he didn’t seem to have made the
connection to the research.” She leaned
back into his chair, and by happy
coincidence back into Paul’s arms. “I’m
not sure how to tell him. Though...it may
be what he’s expected all along.”
“What he’s feared,” Paul corrected.
“I mean, I hate to think Dad’s involved
in something like this, and I thought I’d
seen the worst of him.”
She nodded. “But I don’t know.
What do you think? You did a lot more
talking with him last night.”
“I think he’ll be ready for the
worst. And we don’t know yet what the
worst is. You just suspect.”
“I just suspect,” she said. “But...I
still don’t really know what those
experiments were all about. That’s a lot
more work. And I’m not sure any
intrepid reporter can do it. We might
need some help from...I don’t know,
maybe the Feds.”
“I...might know some people,” he
said. When you ran in shifter circles and
high finance, you met all kinds of
people.
The cat would rather go in and take
care of it with jaws and claws—they’d
hurt his mate—but even the cat knew
that it would be smarter in the long run
to think strategically. If they were in jail,
not only could they not hurt anyone else,
it’d be much easier to figure out what
they were doing and how any damage
they’d done could be dealt with.
His people had always been
protectors. That was more important
than vengeance, as long as his mate was
safe.
“Hey, you still there?” She waved
her hand in front of his face.
“Sorry,” he said. “Just...thinking of
who I could call.” It couldn’t be anyone
connected to Dad, that was for sure. If he
was involved as anything but an
investor, both he and Aaron could be
treading on very thin ice. He had to look
out for his baby brother, too.
Not so baby any more.
They both turned when they heard
Aaron’s knock at the door. “It’s him,”
Paul confirmed, when Abby shot him a
worried look. His cat knew, recognized
his brother’s scent already. “And
whatever he’s got smells great.”
“Hot fresh donuts,” Aaron said,
when the door opened. “Abby cracked
all this wide open yet?”
“Pretty much,” Paul admitted. “It’s
not all good news, though. Dad...well,
there’s no good way to say it. Dad might
be connected.”
Aaron nodded. “I’ve been afraid of
that. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been so
cautious.”
“Well, I don’t have to be,” Paul
said. “But you’ll have to be careful, I
don’t want you getting caught in the
crossfire.”
Aaron
clapped
Paul
on
the
shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve been
working hard to get my finances straight,
and separate from Dad’s. If anything
happens, I won’t be out on the street. Or
indicted.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen to you
anyway,” Paul said. “Come on, let’s
eat.”
21
“I have an idea,” Abby said. “But I
will need your help.”
“Well,” Paul said, slipping an arm
around her waist, “lucky for you, I want
to help.”
“You said you might know someone
who could investigate this?”
He nodded; he’d mentally gone
over his short list in the shower, and
Joel—or as Chris called him, ‘that hot
FBI dude’—was probably the best place
to start.
“I want you to get in touch with
him. And I need to write my paper. I’m
not sure they’ll take the story, but I know
a bunch of places who will if they
don’t.”
“Maybe you don’t want them to,”
he suggested.
She frowned. “What do you mean?
It’s a great story, it’ll—”
“Exactly,” he said. “Maybe this
story’s too good for them. Maybe you’re
too good for them. I’m sorry, but any
publication that could hack up your story
like that—”
She sighed. “I don’t know. They’re
like family to me. I like working there. If
only we could get around—” She paused
for a moment. Then a slow, wicked
smile spread across her face. “That’s it!
You’re right. Not about the paper, but
about having them turn it down.”
“Ohhhkay,” he said skeptically.
“More importantly,” she said,
“getting Laura to turn it down. Then
when the editor—the real editor—asks
me why I didn’t go to him first, I’ll tell
him the truth. That I did.” She sat back in
her chair. Her wicked grin was
incredibly sexy.
“And I’ll finally have proof that she
wouldn’t know a decent story if you
waved it right in front of her. If that’s not
enough...well, then I’ll have to agree
with you and look somewhere else.”
He squeezed her. “I like it.”
“So...when can you talk to your
person?”
“I’ll call him this morning. He’s
usually busy so we might not hear until
the afternoon, but he’ll like the fact that
it’s all happening on public land.” He let
go of her waist and straightened up.
“Don’t have to get a search warrant to
take samples in a public place.”
“Good point,” she said. “And I’ll
write up my pitch.” Her grin brightened
up. “Two pitches. One for Laura and one
for someone who deserves this story.”
“Good plan,” he said, and headed
for his phone.
22
Breakfast was nice. Not as good as
Tina’s pastries, but Dizzy Donuts was a
good place too, and Aaron had brought
back an insanely big box stuffed with
every possible flavor.
“I didn’t think to ask what you guys
might want,” he said, a little sheepishly.
“This is great,” Abby said,
grabbing one she recognized. Strawberry
something. Maybe strawberry lime? She
took a bite. Strawberry lime. Oh yes.
Delicious.
“What kind is that?” Paul asked. He
was still scanning the box, apparently
overwhelmed by choice.
“Strawberry lime,” she said. “It’s
good. Different, but good.”
Paul took a chocolate one out. “Just
chocolate you think?”
Aaron frowned. “Um, there was
chocolate and mocha cream. I think
that’s chocolate. Sniff it.”
Paul sniffed it. “Mocha, I think,” he
said, and took a bite. “Mmm.”
They talked a little more normally
this time, about what Aaron did at his
father’s firm and the work that Paul had
been doing. It felt relaxed, comfortable.
Like family.
“And you’re a reporter,” Aaron
said. “For the local paper?”
She nodded. “I just sold a second
story on Paul’s recycling and waste
disposal to my friend Jennifer at the
Globe, though,” she said, “and I’m
probably going to end up pitching the
Brisbane Chemical story, too. Stepping
up my game a little, I guess.”
“Your game is fine,” Paul said.
“And pretty soon everyone’s going to
know that.”
She smiled to herself a little and
took
another
donut.
The
regular
chocolate, not the mocha cream.
“As much as it pains me to say it,”
Paul said, “I probably should run out at
some point this morning, check in on the
branch office. Just so everyone knows
things are fine and there won’t be any
attacks from the rumor mill. Aaron, are
you—can you stay for a little while?”
“Of course,” Aaron said. “I have a
long weekend, anyway. I told Dad I
wanted to focus on planning. Which...I
mean. I am. Just maybe not the kind of
planning he’s thinking of.” He shrugged.
“And I can work on that Sunday,
anyway.”
“You
should
take
over
the
business,” Paul said. “Don’t feel guilty
about that.”
“It should be ours,” Aaron said.
Paul
grinned.
“Don’t
you
remember? I never was any good at
sharing. You’ll be better off with your
own company.”
“Unless we start competing,”
Aaron grinned back.
“Well, then it’s merger time,” Paul
said. “Besides, I was always pretty
careful to stay out of Dad’s business. I
didn’t want—” He sighed. “Well, you
know. I’m always wondering if I’ll run
into him anyway. Dreading it.”
“You have every right to be—to be
wherever you want to be,” Abby said.
“He’s got no right to take that from you.”
He flashed her a little smile. “I
know,” he said. “But knowing it and
doing it are two different things.”
She took his hand. “Aren’t you the
one telling me not to sell myself short?
You’d better take your own advice.”
“Right,” he said. “I’d better get
going, if I don’t I’ll never leave. As nice
as it would be to spend the day in bed
with you, I suspect you’re going to want
to do some more work, anyway.”
“I do have a couple more emails to
send,” she confessed. She needed to
write the perfect email for Laura to turn
down. That was going to be fun. “You’re
sure you’re all right just hanging out here
a while?”
“Of course,” Aaron said. “That’s
the advantage of having a father who
doesn’t really trust you with the
business.” He winked.
“We have the freedom of the
underestimated,” she said, holding up
her fist. “Solidarity.”
He grinned and bumped his fist
against hers. “Right,” he said. “Let’s
kick some ass.”
So she went to kick ass. It was a
fine needle to thread: a can’t-miss
article, described as honestly as
possible, in a way that would make
Laura roll her eyes and pass the story
over.
Hey Laura,
Have a potential story, not sure
it’s the right fit for Salem Beach Now.
Involves Brisbane Chemical and maybe
some dumping? They seem really
aggressive about not wanting people in
their business.
If anyone asked why she didn’t
mention the attack on her, she could say
she wanted to ask the police if it was all
right first. That wasn’t a lie. She actually
probably should check. She got up and
walked over to her wallet, resting on the
kitchen counter from last night, and
pulled out the officer’s card. Mark
Nguyen. That was right. She’d been so
agitated, it probably wasn’t a surprise
she couldn’t remember his name.
She was walking back toward her
laptop when the shots rang out.
She wasn’t sure which was the
greater shock: the sound, or how quickly
Aaron jumped to protect her, his heavy
paws hitting her back.
I hope he didn’t rip his clothes, she
thought, feeling a little dazed, and then
she remembered that Paul hadn’t left that
long ago. Not long ago at all.
Paul.
Please be safe, she thought. What
will I do if I’ve lost you already?
She could hear a low growl in
Aaron’s throat. He was crouched over
her, his paws still keeping her down,
though he didn’t have any real weight on
her. It was more like a reminder.
She found herself listening intently
to the silence, straining for any sound,
hoping that she’d have a clue about what
would happen next.
Aaron gently took his paws off her
shoulders and then nuzzled gently at her
arm, pushing her wordlessly toward the
bathroom. She crawled, as quietly and
softly as she could, in that direction. She
didn’t like feeling helpless, but she
didn’t have any kind of weapon. She
thought of the knives on the rack in the
kitchen—they’d looked very sharp—but
they wouldn’t do much against someone
trying to shoot through the walls. And
she wasn’t as strong or big as a panther,
that was for sure.
She slid onto the cool tiles of the
bathroom and tried to think. Aaron was
still in the living room. He’d moved
again, but so smoothly and quietly she
couldn’t tell where he’d gone to. And
she still didn’t have any idea where Paul
was. If there had been shots before, she
would have known it, right? She or
Aaron would have heard it.
So he was probably okay. Maybe
he was even clear of all this. That would
be better, even though a little part of her
wanted him to swoop in and save her.
Maybe a big part.
She looked over the bathroom.
Toilet, sink, plunger. None of those were
very good weapons. She wanted
something, anything in her hand. She
wouldn’t feel so vulnerable then.
The bathroom sink was almost
empty, but there was a toothbrush holder,
sleek and black, and a sculpture of a
walking black cat. Maybe that was
heavy. She scooted over, slowly, on her
butt. She didn’t want to make too much
noise, and she knew it would be
dangerous to stand up. She waited until
her back was touching the sink and then
reached up for the panther. It felt heavy,
but she’d just curled her fingers around
it when she heard another noise and
froze.
Aaron was out there. She shouldn’t
have left him.
Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a panther.
He’s got big teeth and claws. You’ve got
a pretty statue that you’re really hoping
is heavy.
She scooted her butt a little further
back and strained up to reach the statue.
She heard a crashing noise—was it
the door? She couldn’t tell from the
angle she was at. Her heart was
pounding. Twice in two days. Don’t I get
a day off from this?
“Here, kitty, kitty,” a man’s voice
called. “Come on out kitty, I won’t hurt
you much.”
Abby rolled her eyes. Couldn’t he
be a little less cliched? She tried to pull
the statue a little more closely to her, but
she didn’t want to make any noise.
“Come on,” he said. “Paul. Little
Paulie panther, come on out here.”
That’s not Paul, and if you keep
calling him, you might get more than you
planned on, she thought.
“I’ve got the bedroom. You check
the bathroom,” the man said.
Shit, there were two of them. When
had that happened? They must have
come in closely together. Of course, she
wasn’t a panther. She didn’t have their
ears.
Okay. Two people. Probably men;
if they sent two guys already they
probably had three. The last guy had a
gun, so safe to assume these guys would,
too.
She could hear someone coming
toward her, slowly. Someone big, with
heavy steps.
“Come on,” the man said. “This is
ridiculous. We’ve got the guns. What do
you have, little kitty claws? Maybe you
got the drop on Chad but—”
That must have been when Aaron
decided to attack. She could hear a
struggle, then a horrible, electric buzzing
—a taser, she guessed. Whoever had
been moving toward her turned and ran
toward the noise.
She couldn’t leave Aaron out there
alone. She grabbed the statue—it was
heavy—and ran as quietly as she could
toward the main room.
They had Aaron.
Oh, shit.
She couldn’t tell if he’d been hurt,
but he was struggling. Two men were
kneeling over him, trying to pin him
down; she saw that one man had a
syringe in his hand. His gun was in a
holster at his side. The other man had a
pistol in one hand and a Taser in the
other. “Did you see the girl?” the man
with the syringe asked. He was the first
speaker, the one who had been barking
orders.
The second man shook his head.
“You think she’s here?”
The man shrugged.
The first man sighed. “Guess it
doesn’t matter. Don’t think she’ll be
taking this mess on. Pretty soon he’s off
in la-la-land and she ain’t gonna try to
carry him out by herself. Doc said this
should be enough to put him to a nice,
quiet sleep but watch his breathing, she
wouldn’t
know
for
sure
without
weighing him.”
They want him alive. To ask
questions? Find out what he knew?
Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good,
she was sure of that.
She clutched the panther statue to
her chest. It might be her only weapon,
but it was big and heavy, at least.
Smooth, though, a little too smooth: she
had to keep her fingers tight onto it. It
was marble, she thought. Some kind of
polished stone, at any rate. Big and
heavy. Just hang on to it. It might be your
only hope.
Should she crouch down? Move?
What the hell should she do? When
would they realize she was there?
She couldn’t let them drug Aaron.
Who knows how he’d actually react to
the drug. The woman had just guessed. It
could hurt him. Kill him.
There was only one thing she could
do. She had the element of surprise, and
she had to use it.
“Hey!” she cried.
They both turned in her direction,
and she threw the statue, as hard as she
could, at the man with the syringe.
“Shit!” the syringe guy said, and
she ran, as fast as she could, behind the
kitchen counter, grabbing a knife out of
the rack on her way down.
She heard another shot, and then a
growl. A cat’s growl. Was that Aaron
waking up, or was it Paul?
She moved, slowly, carefully as she
could. Maybe if she played dead—
“Deal with her later!” That was the
guy with the syringe again. “Help me!”
Another fierce, ferocious growl.
That was Aaron, she was pretty sure. He
was fighting back, and they didn’t want
to kill him. Good.
She put her head around the edge of
the counter, trying to get a better look.
The three of them were still struggling,
but Aaron didn’t look good. Had he been
tased? His paws were massive, but they
were shaking. He looked helpless.
The statue had rolled back across
the floor. She ran for it. She had to help,
however she could. She couldn’t just
cower under the counter and wait to be
rescued.
The man who hadn’t talked heard
her and turned his head just as she swung
the statue at his head, as hard as she
could.
She caught him between his neck
and shoulder, and he cried out in pain,
trying to stay on his feet. She hit him
again, harder this time.
“You—” His fist waved wildly in
the air, and she stepped back. What was
she going to do if this didn’t work? What
was the other man going to do?
Her back hit something—someone
—solid.
She knew immediately it was Paul.
Relief flooded through her. “Help
me,” she said.
Paul had already stepped past her.
He grabbed the second man by the
shoulder and hit him with a heavy punch.
The man dropped, just in time for Paul to
catch him in the stomach with a second
hard blow.
Abby held the statue over the other
man. “They don’t want me—or you
probably. Just the cat.”
Aaron growled again. He sounded
pained.
She and Paul wrestled the man who
hadn’t spoken to the ground, Abby sitting
on his feet and Paul getting his arms
twisted together.
“There’s kitchen twine in the
drawer,” Paul told her.
“Got it,” she said, and ran back,
pulling drawers open until she found it.
It probably wasn’t enough to hold
anyone for long, but it was certainly
enough to keep him slowed down while
they called 911 again. At this rate, she
was going to be good friends with the
operator. She wrapped the twine around
the man’s wrists over and over. He
moaned a little when she pulled it tight.
Good, she thought.
It was the first time he’d made any
sound at all.
“He talk?” Paul asked. He was
holding the other man down, watching
Aaron, who finally seemed to be coming
back to normal. The Taser was just past
the man’s reach, but Paul was ready if he
tried to grab for it.
The guy’s wrists were as tied as
they were going to be. She cut the twine
with the knife and started on his ankles.
“Haven’t heard him, no.”
“Huh,” Paul said. “This other guy
talks, though, right?”
“Yeah. He said, ‘Here, kitty, kitty’
and everything.” She rolled her eyes.
“Oh, creative. I wonder how long
he thought that up.” He leaned over.
“How long did you think that up, guy?”
“Screw you,” the man spat, and
began to struggle again. Aaron got up
and settled on him, which stopped the
struggling pretty quickly.
“I wouldn’t push my luck if I were
you,” Paul said calmly. “That’s a pretty
big animal on top of you. What’d you
think it is, Abby? Panther? Jaguar?”
She couldn’t repress her smile.
“Jaguar, I think, but I don’t think it wants
to tell us.”
“Might have to Google it later.”
“We better tie this guy up, too, let
the gentleman be on his way.”
“Might be a girl,” she corrected.
“That is true,” he conceded. “I’m
sorry I made assumptions about your
gender, Mister or Miss Jaguar.”
“Ms,” Abby said.
“Now you’re just needling me.” He
took the twine from her. “I got this. You
call 911.”
“Again,” she sighed, but she got up
and walked to the phone.
They didn’t just call 911. Paul
knew someone from the FBI, and he
figured two attempted kidnappings
would be more than enough to get them
interested. The police took a lot of notes,
too. They’d let Aaron sneak out the back
door after the two men were tied up,
figuring that if anyone asked they’d just
say when a wild animal that might weigh
two hundred pounds decided to go, you
let it go.
Abby certainly wasn’t going to run
out of things to write about any time
soon. The biggest challenge would be
making
sure
everything
that
had
happened to her didn’t overshadow what
she should be writing about. Brisbane
Chemical had leaked something into the
water, and it was pretty clear they’d
been in trouble before. She’d already
filed a few Freedom of Information Act
requests about some of the settlements
that had happened. The EPA and some
other local agencies had been involved,
in a few different states, but most of the
records were sealed as part of some
kind of settlement. They’d paid a big
fine, though. A really big one.
Were they up to their old tricks or
trying to find some new ones? Too soon
to tell. Maybe Paul’s friend would be
willing to dish.
“I think I owe you that dinner,” Paul
said, when they finally got out of the
police station.
“It’s not that late—is it?” She
reached for her phone.
“It’s three,” he said. “I was thinking
early dinner, since we didn’t really have
lunch.”
She was starving. “Have you heard
from Aaron?”
“He’s fine, though he wishes he’d
listened to me and put an extra set of
clothes in his glove compartment right
away. He borrowed some boxers from
me, but apparently he had to be pretty
careful sneaking back into his car.”
She laughed at that. It was funny;
she’d felt so scared at her own
apartment, but somehow she’d managed
to keep her cool at Paul’s. Had she
realized he’d be close, that he wouldn’t
let her be hurt? Or was it just being in
his space, his territory, that had made her
feel safe?
They twined their hands together as
they walked to Paul’s car, and that felt
good too. Natural. Like they’d known
each other for years, not just a few days.
Being with Paul made her feel like there
was a place she belonged. Where she
would always belong.
“I heard from Joel too,” he said.
“That’s my friend at the FBI. His people
are going to be at the lake, probably
tomorrow. He couldn’t say for sure,
because he’s not allowed to tell me...but
I think we should swing by.”
“Reporters have a right to be on
public property,” she said, happily.
“My thoughts exactly.” He unlocked
the car and held the door open for her.
“You don’t need to do that,” she
said.
“I know I don’t,” he said. “But
you’ve had a rough couple of days. Let
me be nice to you.”
“I can’t believe you’re used to
dealing with kidnappers and...people
like that, either,” she said.
“No, but I’ve had close calls of a
different kind. Like I said, I told Aaron
to put extra clothes in his glove
compartment for a reason. Once you’ve
been a naked seventeen-year-old boy
trying to sneak back across the
neighbor’s lawn to your own house, you
pretty much get nerves of steel.”
“You’re going to tell me that story,”
she said. “And soon.”
“But not today,” Paul objected, as
he opened his own car door and slid into
the seat. “I’ve been through enough.”
They went to the Ram’s Head,
where Karen recognized Abby and
ushered the two of them to a booth near
the back. “What the heck, Abs?” she
said. “Don tells me the cops were out at
your apartment yesterday!”
“Yeah, it was—I mean, it was kind
of scary, but it’s not really a big deal,”
she said. “I was out by the preserve and
some guys thought I was getting in their
business or something, I guess. Cops say
they’ll figure it out. And Paul’s been
taking care of me—Paul, this is Karen
Choi, she co-owns the restaurant and
kind of does anything that needs doing.
“Sophie’s on bed rest,” Karen said.
“As of three am.”
“No!” Sophie was close to her due
date, but not that close, and she’d been
planning to work as long as she could to
save up for more time off when the baby
came. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, they’re worried about her
blood pressure, but it should be fine as
long as she stays off her feet. I’ve given
her some ordering to do so I can pay her,
and that way I’ll have a little less on my
plate. Tim Regan wanted to pick up extra
hours, but he can’t until the end of the
month, so I’ll probably just have to make
do with what I’ve got until then. By the
time I had someone else trained, he’d be
ready to go.”
Maybe I could wait tables for a
little while if I resign from Salem Beach
Now, Abby thought to herself. Put that
together with some freelance work—
“Abby, you there?” Paul asked
gently.
“Oh, of course.” She rewound what
Paul and Karen had been talking about
while she was out to lunch. Karen had
asked what she’d wanted to drink. “Um,
just a ginger ale, I guess.”
“No wine?”
She shook her head at Paul. “Not in
the state I’m in now. I’m having enough
trouble staying focused.”
“I don’t mind,” he said.
“I do.” Especially if Paul heard
more from the FBI. No way she was
letting her leads drop.
“I guess I’ll stick with water, for
now,” Paul said. “Thank you.”
Karen listed the specials—a steak
drenched in ‘beer-drowned onions’
caught Abby’s attention—and left them
to pore over the menu.
“Any
recommendations?”
Paul
asked.
“I haven’t been here in a while,
actually,” Abby confessed. It had never
seemed to be in her budget. It was
always easier to grab a sandwich or
something from the co-op just down the
street if she wanted to eat something
better than fast food. “They usually get
good seafood in, I know that. Tina’s told
me. Nice and fresh and high-quality.”
“Not big on seafood?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Dad
always liked it, but Mom didn’t, so we
didn’t eat a lot of it.” They’d never had a
lot for expensive restaurant meals in
their budget either.
“What about oysters?” His eyes
looked wicked. “They’re supposed to
stimulate the romantic appetite, you
know.”
“I think my romantic appetite’s
probably stimulated enough. But...I’m
not sure I’ve ever had them.”
“Then you should try some,” he
said. “I’ll eat what you don’t want, all
right?”
“Okay,” she said. “I think I’m going
to try that steak special. What do you
think?”
“I haven’t had Seafood Newburg in
just short of forever,” he said. “If your
friend says the quality’s good, I think it’s
time to try it again.”
“Tina says they need to update the
menu, but that’s too popular to get rid
of.”
“It’s a little old-fashioned, but
there’s nothing wrong with that,” Paul
said. “Especially if it tastes good. And
when it’s done well, it tastes divine.” He
winked at her. “I’ll let you try some.”
“Only if you take some of the steak
too,” she said.
“If it’s rare,” he said. “I won’t eat
well-done steak, that’s just a crime.”
“Lucky for you, I like it rare.” He
leered at her, and then almost started
giggling. Probably just as well neither of
them were drinking in the state they were
in. They were both pretty tired.
“I don’t even know what to say to
that,” she said, just as Karen came by for
their orders.
As promised, she ordered her steak
rare, and Paul ordered oysters on the
half-shell for an appetizer along with his
meal.
“I know it’s rude to check my phone
at the table,” Paul said, pulling his out of
his pocket, “but I do want to know if
Joel’s gotten back to me yet.”
“Your FBI friend? You can have the
phone in the middle of the table for that.”
She was dying to know what he would
say.
“I’m afraid you’re far too important
for me to do that,” Paul said. “And I
haven’t heard anything from him anyway.
The phone should vibrate but once in a
while—” He shrugged as he slid it back
in his pocket. “I’ll check after the meal.
This is time for you and me now. And
you’re the most important thing in the
world to me, so I’d be pretty pathetic if I
didn’t give you my full attention.” The
emphasis he put on full made her heart
pound and her insides get squishy.
She only realized that oysters on the
half-shell were raw when Paul offered
to pour one down her throat. “You’re
sure they’re safe to eat?”
“People have eaten them like this
for thousands of years,” he said, gently.
“And you told me yourself the seafood
here is very high quality.” He balanced
the shell in his fingers. “Now you don’t
have to try one, but I can assure you that
they are delicious.”
She looked at the oyster. It
was...weird-looking. But it smelled all
right.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try it.”
He held the shell for her, and she
hoped that it was all romantic and not
faintly ridiculous.
But the oyster did taste good as it
slid down her throat. Really good. “All
right,” she said. “Maybe you have a
point.”
He smiled. “Let me serve you
another.”
She felt her face heating a little.
“I’m not sure—”
“There you are,” a male voice said.
“Sorry to interrupt your meal, but with
what you told me—”
The man was tall, almost as tall as
Paul, and his shoulders were broad
where Paul’s were narrow. He was
dark-skinned;
not
black.
Maybe
American Indian, she couldn’t really
tell.
“Joel,” Paul said, getting up and
grabbing his hand. “Go ahead, sit down.
I’m betting Abby will want to talk to you
even more than I do.”
“This is the reporter?” Joel said,
shaking Paul’s hand and shooting a
glance Abby’s way. “I’m not sure I’m
authorized—”
“Just ignore him,” Paul said, “he
does this every time.”
“Oh, you date a lot of reporters?”
Abby teased.
Joel laughed. Paul sighed, clearly
defeated. “I see you two can handle
this,” he said, waving his hand at them
both.
“I filed a Freedom of Information
Request—actually, a bunch of them—
about the last time Brisbane was under
scrutiny. Is there anything you can tell
me?”
“There’s a lot,” he said. “I can see
you’re at dinner, so I’ll give you the
quick rundown. The rest will have to go
through formal channels, but it shouldn’t
take long. Have you ordered and
everything?”
“Yeah, you’re fine,” Abby said. It
was a small place, they were used to
people coming in to chat.
“I really don’t want to be a pain.
But—they’ve tried to kidnap you
already. Maybe twice.”
“I think the second time they were
after the, eh, shifter,” Abby volunteered.
“But...whatever you want to let us know,
we’re all ears, anyway.”
“There’s protection at your duplex
now,” Joel said. “We can provide it at
Abby’s apartment as well, but it’s easier
to keep an eye on just one spot. You said
she was staying with you, so—”
“She is,” Paul said, his hand
darting automatically to hers. “At least,
as long as she wants to.”
She nodded. It felt safer with Paul.
No matter what had happened. Just being
with him helped.
“Aaron’s fine,” he said. “Back
home with Dad, who doesn’t seem to be
any wiser about what he’s been doing.
Or...anything else.”
She nodded. In this case, no news
was definitely good news. “Will he
come out again next weekend?”
“Probably not, he doesn’t want
anyone getting too suspicious, especially
with the FBI crawling around. But we’ll
see him again soon.” He grinned. “He
says he likes Salem Beach.”
“Of course he does,” she said. “It’s
a great town.”
“Nice people,” he said, squeezing
her. “Smart reporters. Capable.”
“So I’ve heard,” she said, winking.
Paul waved in the direction of the
black sedan as they went through his
apartment door.
“Well,” she said. “Here we are,
alone, in your well-guarded apartment.”
She pushed the door behind her with her
foot. “What should we do?” She
waggled her eyebrows.
“I do have an idea or two,” he said,
pulling her into his arms. “But first
there’s something I need to show you.
Something important.”
“Oh,” she said. Something about his
tone said pay attention. This is
important. “What is it?”
“Sit—sit on the couch,” he said.
“And close your eyes.”
“All right,” she said. She walked
over to it and closed her eyes. She could
hear Paul walking around. She heard
something that sounded like a key in a
lock, then a drawer opening.
“Now hold still,” he said, as he
walked closer to her. “I’ll let you know
when you can open your eyes.”
“All right,” she said. Something
cool touched her neck. Metal?
A necklace?
It was a necklace. She felt its
weight as the cool metal went around her
neck, and he clasped it behind her back.
“You can look now,” he said, and he
stepped away.
She put her hand up to the necklace
as she opened her eyes. It was heavy.
Old-fashioned.
She looked down.
Emeralds. Emeralds and diamonds,
set in gold. She knew without asking that
it was real. “What—this is beautiful,”
she stammered.
“It’s beautiful on you,” Paul said.
He looked stunned by her. “I...I haven’t
seen anyone wearing it in years, and it
looked so different on my mother.”
“Was...this was hers?”
He extended his hand to her.
“Come,” he said. “Come look.”
She took his hand, and he led her to
the bathroom, to the full-length mirror
behind the door.
“What do you think?” he asked.
The necklace was spectacular. Not
a ‘statement necklace.’ Something more
than that. Glittering diamonds alternated
with round teardrop-shaped emeralds.
They almost glowed in the light. “I don’t
even know what to say,” she said.
“They’re all real but one,” he said.
“This was my mother’s fortune. All she
took with us when we left Dad. It’s her
family necklace and he didn’t have any
claim to it. She sold two of the emeralds
—one when we left, and another one,
later, when we were short—but I got one
back. I’m still looking for the other.”
“It’s spectacular.” Like the kind of
necklace she’d pretended to have when
she was a kid. When she thought she
might grow up to be a princess.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
The emeralds and diamonds stood out
against her dark shirt and pale skin.
Behind her, Paul was beaming.
This was even better than being a
princess.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder,
just above the necklace. “I told you,” he
said. “It’s beautiful on you.”
He scooped her up into his arms,
easily. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get
you into something more relaxing.”
“The bed?”
“Sounds good to me,” he said, and
carried her into the bedroom. He gently
placed her on the mattress. “Perhaps we
should loosen this up a little.”
‘This’ was the buttons of her
blouse. She shivered a little as his
fingers brushed at the fabric, and then at
her skin. How was he so good at this?
She’d had boyfriends for years who
weren’t half that good. Maybe he was a
fast learner. Maybe it was part of that
whole ‘mate’ thing.
Whatever it was, she sure didn’t
want to complain. He peeled the fabric
back from her skin, like her blouse was
a flower and he was opening the petals.
The air of the room felt cool on her
skin. The necklace had warmed up
quickly, though. She reached her arms up
to take it off.
“Don’t,” he said. “Please. You look
so beautiful wearing them.” His finger
traced where the central emerald
touched her skin. “And I’ll find the last
one. So it’ll be perfect. Just like you.”
“It’s perfect just as it is,” she said.
He kissed her, passionately, his
hand curling around her waist and
pulling her close. She put her arms
around him, too, his expensive jacket
smooth against her skin. They kissed for
a while, and for a while Abby was
content to just be with Paul, to smell his
spicy cologne and feel his touch.
But not for that long. Everything in
her was rising, rising, a wave of passion
she couldn’t resist or deny.
Not that she wanted to. He set her
on fire, warmed to the tips of her fingers
and beyond.
She was so wet she felt drenched,
even before Paul started pulling her
jeans and panties off. His face dropped
between her legs, as he teased and
tickled her with his mouth. She felt her
hips buckling, and he took her breasts in
his hands, teasing her nipples with his
fingers.
The world was a earthquake and
she was at the epicenter, trapped. But it
was good, still. So good. She felt her
hands twisting in the sheets. Her only
anchor was Paul, Paul’s steady hands
and warm, skilled mouth. She moaned,
helplessly, shaking with pleasure. It felt
good. Everything felt so good.
The emeralds were heavy on her
collarbones, and the air felt cool against
her skin. She wanted to say ‘please,’ but
the words were stuck in her throat.
Everything was building, building.
Paul moved his body up, straddling
Abby. “Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
She had to bite back a scream as he
slid into her. It felt like fireworks were
lit throughout her body, just waiting, the
fuse burning down. She felt the ache in
her body rising, rising. Everything in her
building to the moment, the second—
She came, and there were the
fireworks, throbbing through her, light
and motion overwhelming her and the
whole world spinning to a stop.
Paul was coming too, she realized,
his own hips thrusting hard and fast.
Coming inside her. God.
“You’re amazing,” he panted. She
just shook her head. He was the amazing
one. She was just an ordinary woman.
Well, maybe the luckiest woman
alive. But she wasn’t about to complain
about that.
23
It’s not every day you get to take
photographs as a criminal suspect is led
away in handcuffs.
Abby adjusted her lens and took
another few shots.
The CEO of Brisbane Chemical
had clearly dressed for his arrest—nice
three-piece suit, but not too nice, a
conservative, plain blue tie—but that
didn’t make him look any less awkward
as he walked out of the building and into
the FBI car.
Abby wasn’t the only reporter there
—there were even some TV cameras—
but she’d still been the one to break the
story, and she had an appearance on
public radio to record as soon as the
cars pulled away. It felt good.
Aaron had sent her a good luck text
that morning. I’m still digging. I know
there’s more to find, and you’ll be the
first to know.
Paul was at work; they’d decided it
would be better to draw as few
connections between the fall of Brisbane
and the CEO of Inti International as they
could. Paul and Aaron’s father would
still probably figure it out, but a little
plausible deniability could go far.
There was no one there from Salem
Beach Now. Abby felt a little guilty, but
what could she do? Laura had told her to
never darken their door again ‘after the
stunt you pulled with the Brisbane leak.’
She’d miss everyone, but the fact was
she could make as much freelancing,
especially now that the Brisbane story
was in full swing. A few people had
even suggested she dig in deep and write
a book about Brisbane’s shady history.
That was premature, but she
wouldn’t have to worry about the bills
for a few days.
Once the FBI had gotten involved,
neither she nor Paul had seen any shady
people hanging around, much less trying
to break into their places. Abby had
even slept in her own apartment once or
twice when Paul had had business in the
city. She wasn’t sure how much longer
they’d keep two apartments, though. It
was a lot more fun staying with Paul.
They loaded the last of the suspects
(CEO,
Executive
Vice-President,
Director of Research and Vice-President
for Biomedical Progress) into the cars,
and they pulled away.
“We’ll do anything for a good
shot,” muttered Stan Hall, the local
public radio reporter. “Here I am,
recording as the cars pull away, just in
case someone says something stupid.
You ready for the Q & A?”
“Sure,” she said. “Where should
we set up?”
“Right here in the parking lot’s
fine,” he said. “Unless Brisbane tells us
to take a hike, but considering they’re
‘fully cooperating with the press and
authorities’ we should be safe.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
It was always weird to be on the
other side of the interview, even when
she was talking about her own reporting
and research. “Can you rephrase that last
thing you said? Or just say it again in
case I need to pull it out?”
“Um, sure. What did I say?”
“‘It’s not clear what their research
goal was, but it related directly to the
building blocks of human life.’”
“Oh, sure.” She paused to have a
few seconds’ silence for him. “It’s not
clear what the goal of their research
was, but it is clear that it related directly
to DNA—the building blocks of human
life.’”
His grin was bright. “Perfect. Just
what I wanted. Always a pleasure
working with a pro.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“You ever want to be on radio, give
me a call. We’d kill to have someone
like you on board.”
“I’m more comfortable in print.”
“That’s what I said fifteen years
ago,” he said, and extended his hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Sam, her favorite copy editor, was
waiting by her car. She was wearing a
blue print sundress; Abby couldn’t help
thinking that Paul would like it. “Hi,”
Abby said. They hadn’t really talked
since she’d cleaned out her desk at
Salem Beach Now. “I didn’t think anyone
from the paper was here. How are you?”
“I’m not here for the story,” she
said. “I’m here for you.”
“Don’t tell me Laura thinks I—”
“Laura’s gone,” she said.
The wheels turned in Abby’s head,
but they didn’t go anywhere. “What—
what?”
“A few of us got together and talked
to Bill,” she said. “We told him what
really happened. Everything. The way
Laura talked to you—to a lot of us. What
she did to your story. Things we
should’ve said a long time ago. And then
we told him that she’d told his best
reporter to walk because her big ego got
bruised.”
Abby shook her head in disbelief.
“Wh—for me?”
“For all of us, honestly,” Sam said.
“We were ready to walk. All of us. Ellen
told him if he was too dumb to see that
he’d just fired his best reporter, than he
didn’t deserve to have a paper, much
less Salem Beach Now.”
“What happened then?”
Sam shrugged. “Well, he yelled at
us, and then he told us to all get the hell
out of his office, and he sulked for half
an hour. But I left your article on his
desk—the one about Inti, before and
after Laura’s edits—and he must’ve read
it, because after that half hour was over
he called Laura into his office. And the
next thing we knew she was gone, and he
was asking us which one of us would be
the best person to ask you to come
back.”
“And it was you?”
She grinned. “Lucky me. Now if
you don’t want to come back, none of us
are gonna blame you. But he knows the
score now. And I don’t think he’ll take
you for granted again. Now, we all told
him you’d be in your rights to tell him
where to go, but...we’d really love to
have you back.”
Abby grinned back. “Well...tell him
I’ll think about it. But not without a
promotion. And a raise.”
“I’ll see what we can do,” Sam
said, and gave her a hug.
As she got back into her car, she
checked her phone.
She had a text from Paul. How did
it go?
Great. Got a job offer.
Tell me about it at dinner?
Meet me at the tavern?
I’d love to, she sent back. I have a
lot to tell you.
“Well,” Paul said. “You weren’t
kidding when you said that was a lot.”
It was a busy night at the tavern,
and she’d seen half-a-dozen people she
knew, most of them wanting to stop by
her table and ask about the FBI. She’d
had to stop and start her story more
times than she could count. But she’d
finally gotten to Sam and the job offer.
“What do you think you’ll do?”
Paul asked her.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I mean...I
love Salem Beach, and I want to stay
here, so steady work here would be
great. But maybe freelancing is enough.
Especially since I’d like to follow this
story through to the end.” She picked up
her sparkling water and took a sip.
“Maybe I could go back part-time, keep
working on the Brisbane Chemical angle
while doing some work for the paper.
“Best of both worlds.”
“I could ask Bill,” she said. “Worst
thing he could say is no.”
“You’d better ask him to trust you
going forward, too,” he said. ‘You
deserve a full apology, in person, at the
very least.”
“I guess I do.” It was certainly nice
to have Paul in her corner. “Now, what
about you?”
“What about me?” he asked.
“Didn’t you talk to Aaron today?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But...not much
news. We just talked.”
Abby knew that any conversation
Paul had with his brother was more than
‘just talking.’ It was giving Paul his
family back. “Do you think...do you think
you’ll see your father again?”
“I don’t know,” Paul said, shaking
his head. “It’s way too soon to think
about that, I guess. Having my brother
back in my life, and you—that’s enough
for now. More than enough.” He reached
over and took her hand. “More
like...everything I ever hoped for.”
Abby felt her face flushing at that.
“Everything?”
“Everything I need, anyway.” He
squeezed her fingers. “And then some.”
“Me too,” she confessed. “And then
some.”
***
A note from Zoe Chant
Thank you for buying my book! I
hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to be
emailed when I release my next book,
please
to be added to my
mailing list. You can also
love to hear from you!
Please click on the title to write a
review of The Billionaire Jaguar's
Curvy Journalist. I love hearing what
my readers think!
Page down to read a special
preview of
The
cover
concept
for
this
More from Zoe Chant
(Protection,
Inc. # 3).
A curvy paramedic who
doesn’t know the meaning of fear + a
mysterious panther shifter bodyguard
with the power to inflict terror + sinister
experiments and desperate passion = one
heart-pounding romance!
.
A frightened but
determined BBW + a sexy lion shifter
martial artist + a dangerous enemy = one
unforgettable romance!
A
stressed-out BBW in need of a break + a
sexy billionaire bear shifter in need of a
mate to share his home + the remote
woodland house he built himself = one
steamy romance!
BBW looking
for a family + hot alpha lion shifter
protecting his pride + a dangerous
stalker = one sweet and steamy story!
A BBW doctor
with no time for love + a protective
alpha jaguar shifter + a kidnapping = one
sizzling hot love story.
Special
Preview:
Country Star Bear
When Colin Losev's tour bus slips
off the road, he doesn't expect to be
helped out by a lady mechanic--much
less a tall, curvy lady like Irene
"Renie" Redmond. Renie makes his
heart pound, and she's just the right
size for a Kodiak bear shifter like him.
But they've got a tour date to make in
Montreal. Can he convince Reine to
hop on for the ride?
Once Renie dreamed of traveling the
country. Then her brother got sick, and
she had to take over the family
business. By the time he got better,
she'd been running the garage for
years. Then she met Colin, and the
promise of the ride of her life. She can't
just leave everything behind. Or can
she?
But there are storm clouds in the
horizon for Colin's band--and the
weather is the least of their worries.
Can Colin keep his band and mate safe-
-and can he convince Renie they're
destined to make beautiful music
together?
“Anyway, the roads should clear up
by morning, but I’m not sure about your
bus. You might be able to charter
something, there are a couple of folks
you can call.”
“Probably that’s what we’ll do if
we need to,” he said. “But we’ve got a
little time to figure it out. When do you
think you can take a look at the bus?”
“We can get started tomorrow
morning. Big rig like that, you’re lucky
we were so close, not many people do
them around here.”
“I know,” he said, and his face
turned back to her. “Believe me, I feel
lucky.” He didn’t sound like he was
talking about the garage.
“You’re pretty flirty for someone
who hasn’t even seen my whole face.”
“Didn’t they tell you we’re bears?
Our eyesight ain’t that great. We rely on
our other senses. Smell, touch. Feel.” He
put a heavy weight on the last word.
She ignored the way her pulse
jumped and swallowed hard. “You
haven’t felt anything, either.”
“It’s not just about touch,” he
explained. “It’s instinct, too. What you
feel in your gut and in your heart.”
“So your gut’s usually right?”
“Usually,” he said. “And the
heart…that doesn’t lie.”
This guy was smooth. “Must be
nice,” she said wryly. “But we just met.
No one’s heart is that good.”
He thought over his next words
before he spoke. “It’s not about skills,”
he said. “It’s more like…do you play
any music?”
“Not since high school.”
“What did you play?”
“The saxophone.” Not for very
long. She’d felt so awkward, the big girl
stuck with an even bigger tenor sax.
“You remember what it felt like
when you hit the note, when it sounded
right? When the whole band was on and
everything was in place?”
“Um, kind of?” Playing music
hadn’t been all bad. She did remember
that feeling, like the music was flowing
through them all.
“It’s kind of like that. That feeling
that you’ve found a groove and you’re
going to stay there.”
She glanced over at him. “Are you
calling me a groove?”
He laughed. “More like talking
with you feels that way. Like finding a
groove and leaning right into it. Steady.
Do you really not feel it?”
She shook her head. “I’m human,
you know.”
“Yeah,” he said. “But you ain’t
immune to chemistry. No one is, human
or bear.” His voice sent a sweet little
shiver up her spine.
“Now a lot of people—and bears
—they don’t always have that feeling.
Some people go their whole lives
without finding a connection like that.
But when it happens—my dad said it hit
like a thunderbolt.” He glanced over at
her. “And that’s kind of what I’m feeling
right now.”
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